Haunted Love
by Spheral3
Summary: Fed up of the ghosts that follow him and interrupt his life, Arthur seeks a guardian to protect him from the dead and their needs. He never dreamed of who would end up protecting him, not in a million years... more inside, hiatus
1. Summery

Fed up of the ghosts that follow him and interrupt his life, Arthur seeks a guardian to protect him from the dead and their needs. He never dreamed of who would end up protecting him, not in a million years! Gilbert! Can Prussia overcome his pride as, well, Prussia, to protect Arthur from the ghastly dangers that threaten to poses him? Or will Gilbert join them in claiming the world as Prussia? GilbertXArthur with AlfredXArthur as well.


	2. Fed Up With the Dead

Fed Up With The Dead

By Eden Killinger

England stood silent as he fumed angrily to himself. The sting of tears burned at the corners of his eyes, but he kept a stiff upper lip and bit them back. He dared not turn around to see the face that stared back at him. Instead he continued to torture himself by facing the laughing man in front of him.

"Oh-ho man, Iggy," America 'hoo'ed and 'ha'ed as he calmed his laughter, "You really had me going this time. I mean a ghost? Haunting you? You're just making things up again to scare me."

England's embarrassed blush painted his face bright red.

"I… I was just asking for a room in your home…" he muttered. America shook his head.

"Then just tell it to me straight, you don't have to make things up."

"I'm not making things up!" he snapped. "I'm not a child. If I tell you there's a bloody ghost behind me, then I'm telling you the truth!"

The word 'bloody' was used in a literal sense. The young child, with no eyes in its sockets, was crying tears of blood, and carried a noose around her neck. England could fee her gaze still on him, the chill was enough to give him goose bumps.

"Hey— hey China, come here!" called America, "Iggy here says he sees a ghost!"

"I don't have time for your imaginary friends," he called back, "It's almost meal time."

"They're not imaginary!" he called after him. He turned his angry gaze back to America. "Fine! I don't need you— who does?"

"Jeeze, you can still stay at my house if you want—"

"Forget your bloody house!" he cried out. "I wouldn't go anywhere with you, you stupid, inconsiderate , git!" with that he turned and walked away, ducking into the nearest room. A moment later the little girl walked through the wall and stood there, staring at him.

"_Don't yell," _she sobbed_ "It makes me sad."_

"Everything makes you sad!" he snapped. "You're bloody dead, get over it!"

"_But if you see me then—"_

"then I can help you, I know." He folded his arms and turned his head away, frowning. He remembered the strange looks that his former colony had given him, that everyone had given him from the meeting. The girl had been sobbing because South Italy had been yelling at Spain and was distracting England. Germany had continued with his speech until he heard shushing coming from England. Thinking it had been meant for him, he began yelling at England. When the Briton had given his plea of defense the whole room went quiet. It certainly wasn't surprising to them about England speaking of a ghost, but to have shh-ed Germany and make up an excuse like that was unsettling. No one sushed Germany in a meeting.

Germany stared at England, his eyes narrowed.

"_I see, so you think I'm stupid as well as annoying?"_

"_No, not at all! I'm telling you this little girl—"_

"_Vell maybe we should take a break here then." _His icy stare cast upon England_._

"_No—really it was—"_

"_Meet back in fifteen minuets."_ he called over the commotion. Everyone stood to leave, and before England could follow, Germany stepped in front of him. "_Next time, leave the 'ghosts' at home, ja?"_ he turned sharply then and walked away. The others gave him strange looks and either shook their heads or muttered something about 'crazy England'.

England pulled out of his memory of the faces looking back at him oddly, even Russia was giving him a sinister smirk. He remembered the little girl next to him and frowned when he heard her soft sobs once more.

"Well… maybe I don't _want_ to help you. Ever think of that?"

"_What…? Why?"_ the crimson tears poured out of her face as she sobbed loudly. England was forced to cover his ears as she grew louder and louder. He had forgotten this about the child and had let his temper get the better of him. Her hollowed voice grew shrill and strong, and the blood she cried continued to cover her own body. Her porcelain skin and white cloths were stained in it. England looked away, sickened by the appearance.

'It's all an illusion, it'll go away!' he thought to himself. He turned his head back to see that she was now closer to him. Her brown, curled locks bordered her face as she looked up to him with those dark circles. Her little hands grabbed his belt and she tugged on him harshly.

"_Help me!"_ she pleaded. _"Find my mummy!"_

"No!" England yelled back. "No— no more! I don't want to help you or any other bloody ghosts! No more ghosts!"

"Angleterre?" Franc's voice came from behind the door, followed by knocking. "Are you there? The meeting is starting again soon and…" whatever else it was that France had to say was drowned out by the screaming child. England shut his ears even more and grit his teeth.

"Yea, fine, whatever!" he called out to France. To his surprise he found that he had forgotten to lock the door, for in walked France. Like America and everyone else he knew, he had no second sight and couldn't hear the screaming, distraught child before him.

"It's starting now, come on."

"I… I can't— I—" he closed his eyes and winced as yet another scream ripped from her throat and her tantrum continued.

"_I want mummy! I want mummy!"_ she stomped on his foot. He grabbed his foot and hopped around.

"I don't give a damn about your mummy, you little bent!" he yelled at what France could only see as being thin air.

"Erm, are you feeling alright?"

"No, now shove off!"

"But the meeting—"

"Leave him, he's talking to his 'friends' again." came the voice of America. He was leaned against the door frame, looking a bit worried. "Though, I've never seen him so worked up over it before."

"Ah, it must be stressful being such a little island of a country," nodded France. "Even I would have a mental breakdown if my food tasted like—"

"My food is fine, thank you very much!" he barked back. "For the last bleeding time, they aren't imaginary!"  
"Come on Iggy, enough screwing around, people are waiting." frowned America

"I would if I could but she's screaming so loud I won't be able to…" he felt hurt as he saw the impatient sigh that came from his former colony. France shook his head and tsked to him like an adult to a silly child. England fumed, feeling his hands ball up into fists. He hated those looks.

"Hey!" came the strict voice of Germany. "Vat is ze hold up? Italy is almost asleep by now and Russia won't stop trying to force China to be one wizth him!"

"Iggy's seeing things again." said America as he stepped out of Germany's way.

"Vat? Ve don't have time for this! England!" he barked.

"It-is-not— GAH!" he cried out, holding his ears and the little girl once more threw a tantrum from being ignored.

"_I hate being ignored!_"

"I don't care! I don't care! Shut up and die quietly!" he squeezed his eyes tightly, knowing the looks the others were giving him. The sounds, the looks, it made him feel trapped.

"Stop this nonsense right now!" Germany ordered. "Are you coming or—"

He was cut off as England suddenly ran, pushing past him and knocking into America as he ran. He even nearly slammed into Russia, but it didn't stop him.

'America you ass!' thought England as the tears of stress finally ran down his cheeks.

A horribly angered and humiliated England managed to hail an early flight back to his home from Berlin. He had told no one that he had gone, or had even informed his boss of his incompetence yet. He hadn't even waited for his driver to pick him up from the airport. He had walked home as quickly as he could, ignoring the horrible child that was beside him. Her sorrowful sobs had stopped long ago, now she merely floated quietly beside him. He ignored her though, walking down the snowy street to his large manor that lay out of the way of the city. He walked up his steps, ignoring the gnomes that were being sneaky and hiding in the snow. He opened the door and walked in, closing it without caring about the little girl.

"_Will you help me now?"_ she asked in her hollow, distant voice. England said not a word and merely stepped into the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing a beer. It would be the first of many that night, he thought. England slipped easily into his old habit, his alcoholism had started back in his pirate days.

'Ah… those were the days, weren't they?' he thought to himself. 'If I'd a seen a ghost or fairy back then no one would have dared to look at me like they do now.' He leaned back in the couch, kicking his shoes off and staring into the fireplace. 'It would have been 'yes sir', and 'how is Ms. Fairy today, sir'… bloody sods. Tossers, the lot of them. Wankers, those arses and their closed minded…' his thoughts trailed off as he heard his cell phone ring. He looked to the little devise that sat on the dining table on the other side of the room. He watched it ring, taking another swig of his beer every time it paused as if to entertain himself. It stopped, leaving whoever was calling to go straight to voice mail. England turned back to the fire place, when suddenly his home phone rang as well. He frowned, whoever was calling him was persistent. The only person he could think of like that was America. He didn't nearly have enough alcohol in him yet to deal with him. Yet, as the phone gave its third ring he decided to pick up and give him a piece of his mind. He strode over and grabbed the phone from its wall holder.

"What do you want you git?"

A pause.

"I want an explanation, England," came the stern, up tight voice of none other than his boss. England choked on his sip of beer.

"B-Boss! I-I'm terribly sorry! Had I known it was you I'd have never—"

"I received a call from the World Conference about your abrupt absence." He paused. England could feel his insides crawl with guilt.

"I can explain, sir, you see,"

"Oh I got quite the explanation already. It was America who told me about the ghosts that haunted meetings and interrupted Germany from his speeches."

"Oh, no sir it wasn't really like that at all,"

"Please inform me what it is like then, because I've spent a good deal of time with Chancellor Merkel giving an apology to her and her country for your childish behavior."

The words stuck him like a slap across the face. He wanted nothing more than to hang the phone up the, but the fear of being further lectured prevented him.

"I am so sorry, Prime Minister, you see it was… it was that I…" he found that he could not bring himself to continue. His words were lost in the steady stream of doubt that filled his mind. The tears resurfaced, and he froze.

"England?" the Prime Minister's tone was slightly more concerned. "Is there something going on between yourself and France, again? Perhaps something with America that the country is unaware of?"

"No sir, nothing like that."

"If its not that then what is it, Arthur?"

"I'm telling you, and please believe me when I say that I've been haunted by a ghost, and she won't go away!"

"So that was it then."

"Yes, but she's real and won't go away! She's in my house right now, just staring at me! All she does is stare, and cry, and…"

A tiered sigh from the other end cut England off, and he went silent once more. The silence wore on, and he could almost see his boss rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Alright, England, we'll try again next conference, eh?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"Chin up."

"Sir…"

"Yes?"

"You don't believe me, do you?" he didn't know what compelled him to ask the obvious, but he waited anxiously for the Prime Minister to answer.

"England, you are one of the oldest countries in the world, and our history is riddled with war and death." He gave another frustrated sigh before he continued. "I understand that our pasts haunt us, but try and leave the ghosts out of the meetings, right?"

He felt cold in that moment. It took him a moment before he could choke down his tears and answer.

"Yes, sir."

"Good night, England."

"Good night, sir." And with that he heard the other end of the line click off. He hung up the phone and turned to throw his half empty beer away. He tossed it into the trash and instead, reached into his cabinets. He pulled out the scotch and brandy, opening one while dragging the other along with him back to the living room. It didn't matter which one he opened first, though he found that it had been scotch, rather only how much he could drink. Soon the sobs of the girl faded away, and the only thing he could see was the fireplace before him.

The next day he found himself found the floor. His eyes opened, only for them to close again and shut out the day light that shown through. He put his hands on his head and tried to remember why it was he had been drinking. The reason became all too clear when the little pale face came into view, along with a green fairy.

"Oh my!" squeaked the fairy. She flew over to England and tugged at his right sleeve. "You're in quite a state! Did you have another fight with America?"

He groaned and lifted his hand to gently wave the fairy off.

"No."

"_He won't help me…"_ the little voice of the ghost wavered. The fairy gasped and looked back to him.

"Is this true?"

"Yes." He sighed, wishing desperately to go back to sleep.

"But why? All she wants is to pass on."

"I don't give a rat's arse…" he mumbled into the carpet. He could hear the flutter of the little wings as she flew around him.

"Poor England, are you sick?"

"Am I sick?" he lifted his front off the ground, suddenly angered. "Of course I'm sick! Sick and tiered of that thing!" he pointed to the ghost at his side, "I made a complete and total fool of myself at the world meeting and over the phone with my boss! I'm the laughing stock of the entire world!" he gave a short laugh, "The whole world thinks I'm crazy!"

"Oh England…"

"Softpetal," he sighed, "I can't take this anymore! They follow me everywhere and demand that I help them! How can I help the dead when I already have the living to take care of? I can't be held to the past."

"What will you do?"

"I have to do something…" he sat up, folding his arms in thought.

"_You could help me find my mother."_ The ghost offered.

"Nice try." He responded flatly, causing Softpetal to give a tiny laugh. England was not amused however and let out a sigh. "I'm tiered of being looked at like I'm strange too... if I only had some help, or if only I just didn't hear them anymore…"

"What about a shield charm?" asked the little fairy. England perked up, turning his head a bit to try and see the little fairy.

"A shield charm? Yes… under the right circumstances and the right incantation, I suppose that'd make me def or blind to them for a short while." He smiled. "Yes! Then I'd only be able to hear them some of the time, and help them out when I'm not doing anything important." He paused. "But is there any such charm like that…?"

Softpetal bounced off of his shoulder and hovered in front of him.

"We won't know until we try!" she chirped. "Come on!" he pulled at his ear playfully.

"_What about my problem!"_ demanded the little ghost. England turned back.

"You have all the time in the world, right now. Sit tight." And he began heading up the stairs to his library.

England found himself nursing his head while he read the book of charms. The hang over he suffered only worsened from trying to read and think at the same time. Softpetal was sitting in front of a book, her yellow eyes scanning over the aged pages of the ancient language.

"I don't see anything yet."

"Oh, it's probably hopeless…" England sighed. "It was a nice try though."

"What? We haven't even begun to fight! Let's go a bit more!" she encouraged. "Oh look! Here's something about the guardian spell."

"A spell is a bit heavier than a charm or a protection chant, don't you think?"

"Yes, but it says here that the guardian you summon can protect you from whatever you want! It can make it so that even the poltergeists can't ruin a meeting."

"But all I wanted to do was successfully ignore them."

"Have you found anything like it though?"

"Well, no but…" he sighed. The little fairy rose into the air, her arms folded and a triumphant smile spread across her face.

"I say this one is full proof. The other is dangerous! What if you can't see when a ghost wants to posses you! Then suddenly your blacking out, or saying your true name out loud, or…"

"Alright, Softpetal, alright," he sighed. "I see what you mean. Ignoring my second sight doesn't protect me from the things I'm vulnerable too, I see what you mean." He reached over and grabbed the book to read it. It certainly sounded tempting, like having a bodyguard against the onslaught of the depressing dead. He looked back to the hopeful fairy, and gave a nod. "Let's try it."

"Yes!" she squealed.

Okay. Wow, Hetalia Fanfic huh? I know, I'm a bit surprised too. In any case, I'm hoping to go for some ArthurXGilbert and ArthurXAlfred as well. Tell me what you think!

Eden K.


	3. The Guardian is Summoned

The Guardian Is Summoned

By Eden Killinger

A large transmutation circle outlined in chalk lay at England's feet. Candles had been positioned and lit on all five corners of the pentagram. The stone room he stood in lay deep down underneath the old manor, tucked away from the rest of the modern world. It had been built at a time when magic was thought to be a product of the devil, and witches were burned at the steak. Those memories were harsh ones, but there had always been a safe feeling about being underground, deep within the confines of his own earth. The magic seemed to increase when he was down there, his spirit felt lifted and hope was brought to him.

'Who cares if everyone gives me funny looks and calls me crazy,' he smiled, 'at least I'm not alone with magic on my side.' He ignored the bittersweet feeling that began to bud in his chest and walked over to the book. The little green fairy, Softpetal, sat on the book and allowed herself to be lifted up. Her little face held a blush as she looked at England's thoughtful gaze.

All the fairies in the land knew of Arthur Kirkland, they themselves had named him. They had watched him grow from a young little nation of kingdoms and surfs, to the great parliament he had become. Yet in even in all of his success he had never forgotten about them, keeping their legends alive was the greatest gift he could give to his people, both mage and human alike. They were his friends as much as he was theirs. Seeing her dear friend distressed over the taunting and jeering he had received over the years had angered her. Who were they to not believe him?

"Do you think this'll work?" squeaked Softpetal.

"I sure hope so. I don't think anyone else at the meetings can take another interruption—I know I can't."

He walked over to the circle once more, the long dark robe he wore trailed along the ground at his feet. He put his hood over his head, thinking it'd be wise to conceal as much about him as he could upon first meeting his otherworldly guardian. Softpetal leapt away from the book and hovered behind him.

England began to chant in a monotone voice, his breath even and his manner poised and well trained. Despite his youthful appearance he was a master of the arts of witch craft, wizardry, and even alchemy.

In a few moments a mysterious wind picked up from the outlined circle, and a mysterious green light beamed from within the chalk lines. England continued his chanting, his one hand out stretched while the other supported the book. The wind grew stronger and stronger, and the light shown more fiercely, casting England in the glow.

"I call forth the guardian to shield my body from harm!" England yelled out over the winds. "Aid me, and keep my soul from darkness! Let my mind be at peace, and your loyalty my shield!" he cast light into the circle, shooting from his finger tips like lightning bolts! A small ball of light formed above the circle and swirled like a vat of golden ink. A face suddenly formed from the molten mixture. Its mouth opened revealing large fangs like that of a lion, its voice boomed out and caused the walls and the manor above the shake.

"_I am the one of light who harbors the guardians! Speak, summoner, who to bring forth from the chaos to aid you."_

England blinked in surprise, he hadn't known he'd have to choose someone, he wasn't prepared! The being in front of him was god-like and terrifying, he felt ashamed not having known about this part. Gathering his courage despite his embarrassment, he looked to the book he held and searched desperately for some kind of hint.

"I wish to have a guardian," he began, still searching the ancient text, "who'll be by my side when I need him most, and push back the dead that plague me."

"_One who walks amongst the dead to challenge the dead,"_ he seemed to correct England in his speech.

Green eyes cast up back to the large lion face, giving a nod.

"Yes, a warrior of sorts!" he nodded. "Something fierce and combative to keep the dead at bay, yet protective and loyal."

"_I shall bring forth your new guardian, but be warned summoner," _the golden orbs that swirled in the molten head suddenly flashed as red as rubies!_ "The pact you seek cannot be undone easily. The guardian I bring forth will be one that draws from your past to ensure your future."_

It was an uncomfortable circumstance to give to a nation that was largely isolated and very private about his life. All the same he gave a swift nod and told the creature that he understood.

"_Draw blood from your palm to seal the pact."_

England drew out his ancient blade. It was a straight dagger, whose blood had only ever tasted its masters, and the times were few and long in between. Arthur put the book down and placed the blade with the emerald hilt pressed on his palm. He quickly drew the blade and stretched out his closed bleeding hand over the circle. The lion's head had suddenly moved from its place and snapped it's sharp jaws around his hand. England gave cry in surprise, but dared not draw his hand back.

"England!" cried Softpetal, her voice lost over the wind.

The lion drew its large head back, revealing that the cut was now dry, and that a shield had replaced it instead. The round shield had a dark bird with its wings spread out, its beak open and a serpentine tongue lashing out. England looked back to the lion, watching it disappear into its self, but the golden orb continued to hover in the air. The orb turned to light before expanding to roughly England's height, if not a few inches taller. From it he could see a foot step out and onto the stone ground. The slender leg was followed by a uniformed torso; a familiar uniformed torso. The head of the guardian popped out, revealing snow white hair and red eyes that were set on England. The man's coat tails trailed behind him in the flowing winds, and finally he stepped out all the way.

Several things happened at one right then. The portal suddenly died out along with the winds, Arthur was staring in shock, and the new guardian was looking to him with the same wild and shocked expression. Silence rang out for only a few deafening moments before it gave way to chaos.

"PRUSSIA?"

"England?"

"You're my new guardian?"

"Where the hell am I?"

"What on earth are you doing standing there! You're not dead!"

"Yea, I wish!"

"But Germany never said you were—"

"What's going on? I hear some voice telling me to come back and all I find is you!" he demanded. He stepped over to England and grabbed him around his collar, leaving the hood to fall away and green eyes to stare widely into red. "Tell me!"

"I— I can explain, Prussia," he chocked.

"You had better or I'm going to—" he raised a fist to slam into England.

"Alright, calm down!" he pushed Prussia away. "You see… you're…" he felt his words fail him as he looked to the stern, yet flustered Prussia. He swallowed his hesitation and stood straighter, going back into his gentleman tone of voice. "You are my new spirit guardian."

"You're _what now_?" he blinked.

England put a hand on his face in frustration over the unlucky turn of events.

"You are my guardian that I summoned to help protect me against the dead who have been haunting me for years now," he said, trying to regain his calmed state. Prussia stared at him for a moment, but he then bared his teeth at him and gave a low growl.

"That's the biggest load of crap I've ever heard!"

England's heart sank in his chest. Even his guardian didn't believe him. Rejecting the irony that presented its self, England struggled to keep his stiff upper lip and pushed on.

"It's all very complicated, I know. Lord, I had no idea it was going to send you!" he went quiet for a moment. He watched as Prussia looked himself over, starting from his hands, then to his arms and what he was dressed in. A hint of distress was visible on his face, but he was doing well in masking it with anger. England saw the uniform he wore was the same one he had on the last day he and many of the other nations had seen him. He had no idea, nor did the others he imagined, had any idea about Prussia's death.

February 25, 1947, a date that marked the end of an empire. Prussia had been written off the map, never to be recognized as a country. It was hell for the others to imagine the purgatory that Prussia had to endure, but no one had imagined death for him.

England was snapped out of his thoughts when those red eyes stared at him.

"Well are you just going to stand there frozen now?" he scoffed. "The awesomeness that is myself demands and explanation, a better one."

England's expression turned flat in that instant.

'He-he hasn't changed much…' he sighed.

"I suppose you deserve it." He agreed. "Alright, let's go up stairs and try to sort this out then, eh?"

"You better serve me something good too," he grumbled. England had walked past Prussia to the stairs when he heard that.

"Excuse me?" he had honestly thought he had heard him wrong.

"I'm hungry. Wouldn't you be after being dead for so long? I can't even remember the last thing that I ate!"

England paled a bit.

"Hungry? You're hungry?"

"Are you def to my awesome words or something? Yes, I'm starving!"

England sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Prussia had a physical body now, which meant that those without second sight could probably see him as well. Prussia also had the appitite of a wild boar, large and demanding!

"A-alright, I'll find something for you." He turned back to the stairs. It was then that the little fairy fluttered over to England's shoulder.

"Oh my, what are we going to—"

"Woah that moth is huge!" cried Prussia. "Hey, England, don't move!" shouted Prussia. England turned and saw Prussia with his fist raised above his head ready to strike. England held his hand out in front of him protectively as he tried to shield little Softpetal.

"Prussia, don't!" he yelled out. Everything went still in that moment. England opened his eyes and Softpetal peaked out from over his hand. Prussia was frozen in front of him, as if someone had pressed the pause button on life. "P… Prussia?" he wondered.

"I… can't… move…!" he managed to say. England stared at him, bewildered. He drew his hand back, and suddenly Gilbert was freed. He put his fist down and rubbed it, looking to Arthur with a frown. "What was that?" he asked.

"I don't know." Arthur shrugged. He looked to the hand he had outstretched to find the shield and mark still on his palm.

"It's the mark!" exclaimed Softpetal.

"It talked!" exclaimed Prussia.

She hovered over to England's hand, landing on his forearms as she examined the mark.

"Perhaps it has something to do with this bird seal." she squeaked. England suddenly recognized the small design! Gilbert looked to the mark as well, then his eyes widened.

"Ah! My flag!"

The little fairy hummed to herself in thought for a moment before she spoke to Prussia.

"Being a guardian means you have to by loyal to the one who summoned you. I guess if you get out of hand, then this mark is what keeps you in check."

"WHAT? Oh no! No, no, no, no! Not awesome, not awesome at all!"

"Awesome or not, that's that!" sniffed the fairy. Prussia growled at her and raised a hand to swat her away.

"Stupid moth!" he leaned over to reach her, going on one foot in a desperate swipe.

"Prussia!" Arthur called, holding his hand out again. Gilbert froze, glaring at the fairy with irritation. He watched her flutter over to Arthur and land on his shoulder.

England took his hand back and watched Prussia fall to the floor in a heap. The albino lifted his head up and glared up at him.

"The awesome me is at no one's mercy! Least of all to little England's!"

"You are now!" squeaked the fairy, her thin hands on her hips.

"Stupid bug!" he snarled. "I'll squish you!"

"Oh!"

"Prussia," England held out his hand again, causing the guardian to freeze once more. He took his hand back, allowing him to move. He obviously didn't learn easily, but that much England already knew about him. "Stop that this instant! Besides, she's not a threat to you."

"I never said she was!"

"This is Softpetal, a fairy friend."

Prussia snorted with disgust.

"You girl."

England's cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.

"I most certainly am not a girl!"

"What's wrong with being a girl?" huffed the fairy.

"N-nothing," England stammered. "No, it's just," he turned back to growl at Prussia.

"You don't expect me to believe any of this, do you? Fairies, ghosts, and guardians?"

England stared at him for a moment.

"O-of course I do! You're the one who was brought back from the dead—remember? How else do you explain standing here now?"

"Well I… I…" he went silent. England smirked, folding his arms and feeling the very rare satisfaction of winning an argument about the supernatural. It didn't last long, for in a few short moments it was Prussia's turn to grin.

"My nation, it must have been rebuilt!" he cried out. England stared at him shocked.

"What?"

"That's it! It's the only real plausible explanation!"

"No, Gilbert, Prussia is still—"

"Oh little England, I know you're jealous of my awesome defeat of death, but there's no longer a reason to hide the truth! I'm alive! Prussia is alive!" he cried out, joyously. England felt anxiety wash over him as Gilbert grinned wildly and began to sing his national anthem. He had to stop his train of thought, and quickly.

"Think idiot! If that were true then—" Gilbert laughed, drowning him out.

"Pfft, I don't have time to waste my awesome brain cells on explanations! It doesn't matter anyway, I'm back now and I can do whatever I want! Your silly imaginary ghosts be damned!"

"Wha— I— you will not talk to me like that! I'm the one who brought you back and I—!"

"You don't have the balls to master someone as awesome as me, little England." he laughed. He ruffled his hair before pushing past him and continuing up the stairs.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he demanded.

"Wherever I want!" smiled Prussia. "After all, I've got some favors to pay back. The Great Kingdom of Prussia must be rebuilt!"

England raced after him "You can't do that!"

Prussia turned on him.

"What are you gonna do about it?"

"Y-You will stay by my side and—"

"Weak," He scoffed, before turning around again.

Prussia managed to walk up the stairs, into the house and just past the living room when he suddenly froze. England caught up with him in that moment.

"Gilbert!" he demanded, but the nation was looking down to the living room floor. He could see the little crying child just sitting there, staining her new white dress. Unsure, Arthur shifted for a moment before looking to Gilbert. He was staring at her, his eyes scanning over the blood that stained her dress and the noose that was squeezing her neck. England wasn't sure how to feel, knowing that someone else could see her. He didn't say a word and just looked over to the child that he had been nasty towards.

"Is there another epidemic?" asked Prussia, slowly and in a hushed tone.

"No." England answered, quietly.

Gilbert turned frowning to England.

"What's going on here? You sick nation—do you now tie up and force little girls into your home?"

England looked to him, repulsed by the very idea.

"Heavens no!" he exclaimed. "That's one of the many ghosts that haunt me!"

"A likely story! Hey, kid, did this guy…" his words stopped when the little ghost lifted its head up to look at the new person. Prussia stared at the soulless eyes and bloody face.

"_Are you here to help find my mummy…?"_ she sniffled. Prussia's eyes became very wide as he stared back at her, terrified. He looked back to England, who was looking away and in the complete opposite direction. He turned back to the girl only to find that she suddenly appeared directly in front of him. He could do nothing as crimson coated hands clutched his uniform. _"My mummy…!" _

He made a yelping noise and stepped out of her grasp, looking down at the horrifying child who was beginning to cry a bit harder. Even for someone as awesome as himself, this had thrown him through a loop. She began to cry for her mother again as she latched her tiny hands on his white shirt.

"Hush," said England. "He's here for me so I can finally have some peace and quiet from others like you." His stern eyes were turned to her. "So let go of him, it's me whose going to help you."

"_Honestly?"_

England let out a breath and gave a nod.

"Of course child." He walked over to her, by Prussia's side. He ignored the surprised look on his 'guardian's face and placed a hand on the child's head. "I never said I wouldn't."

"_You said you didn't want to."_ she sniffed, leaning into his touch. She was so cold to the touch that England could feel the goose bumps return to his skin.

"I was angry… but I promise now that I'll help you."

Prussia stared at England, who so calmly picked up the bleeding child. England looked over to Prussia, a red tint coming over his face as he furrowed his brow at him.

"Believe me now?" he asked, bitterly. Before the former nation could answer, England turned and walked into the kitchen to fetch his things. The little fairy that had been with England was now hovering next to Prussia. He looked at her, from that closeness he could actually see the features that made her up to be a fairy. Stick-thin limbs, a pointed face with big yellow eyes, and flower petals clung to her body and covered her. She was looking at him with a frown.

"What are you going to do now?"

He blinked, surprised. He had always thought that everything that England had ever said about the other world, ghosts, and fairies, that is was all made up. To be fair, so did everyone else! He reached out a hand, curiously, to touch the fairy. She fluttered away from his reach.

"So it's all real… is it?" he looked back to his hand. 'But my nation… no I know I'm right! I have to be. They brought back Prussia but England is just… just…' he clenched his hand, searching for the reasons within all of his confusion.

He heard England walk out of the kitchen and turned to watch. The child was still in his arms. He had his coat on and had the keys to his car in his hand. It seemed as though he were ignoring Prussia, that light tint of red was still on his face.

"Where are you going?" asked Prussia. England looked over to him, stopping when he had reached the door.

"I'm going to help find this little girl's mother." He replied simply.

"Well what do you expect me to do? I can't rebuild Prussia on my own."

England didn't answer and merely glared at him. Prussia frowned and huffed, searching his mind for something else to say.

"I mean, what am I suppose to do? Stay here and twiddle my thumbs?"

"Do you want to help now?" he asked.

"What I _want_ is to figure out exactly… I mean I want to know why I'm…" he balled his hands into fists, biting his lower lip as he thought. England's expression softened and he turned to look to the ground. He realized that his temper had gotten the better of him once more.

"I am the one who got you mixed up in this I suppose…" he muttered. "I'll explain on the way if you'll accompany me."

"Alright… but I'm not your man servant or anything like that." He followed him out the door.


	4. Guardian Gilbert

3) Guardian Gilbert

By Eden Killinger

The little ghost girl sat in Arthur's lap, sniffling and whipping her tears as she whimpered. The ride over was silent except for the ghost noises. Prussia was staring out the window, quiet himself as he adjusted to his new scenario. It felt like anything but a dream, which was probably why he had felt so confused and quiet. She he sorted through his thoughts and memories, he also began to feel himself. There was no warmth to him, and he realized that he had scarcely taken a breath since he had walked out of the light to meet England. He shook his head of his thoughts, looking back out the window for something to distract him. His eyes scanned over the pedestrians on the sidewalks. They held little devises up to their faces, or plugged them into their ears. He frowned as he watched them, confused by the little devises. It was like something out of Arthur's science fiction novels.

"What year is it, anyway?" he asked.

"It's the year 2010." England replied. "November 8, if you want to know the exact date."

"That long, huh?"

"Pardon me?"

"It been that long since I've been…"

There was a pause before Prussia leaned back in his seat and looked back over to Arthur. He couldn't help but look towards the little girl. He had never believed in ghosts, there were so many more awesome things to think about rather than the dead. Seeing her was like a slap in the face, a surreal slap that brought him into his new reality. England hadn't seemed disturbed by the gaunt, ghastly child, merely irritated by her crying. He had found many more things to be than irritated with the child. Bewildered was one of them, spooked by the look of her, and definitely not wanting to be around something so sad and ugly. Yet there she was, in England's lap, being treated like a little lost child. Had England seen deathly looking ghosts like her before? Was that what he was constantly living with?

Arthur notice the other's gaze. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence and snapping Gilbert out of his thoughts. The embodiment of a nation long dead leaned back in his seat, staring out in front of him. He let out a breath before he spoke up.

"So… my awesome nation," he went silent for a moment more, "It hasn't been rebuilt at all, has it?"

"No, it's still apart of Germany." he felt that little bit of guilt in his chest once more, seeing as how he was one of the nations who had voted to disband Prussia. Gilbert gave a nod in return, shifting uncomfortably in his seat a few times.

"Yea, I guess that would be too good to be true, no matter how awesome it would be." he sighed.

"Gilbert?"

"Huh?"

"Why didn't Ludwig… I mean why do you think he… does he know that you're…?"

Prussia gazed at him dully for a moment, his red eyes at half mast before casting them to the floor.

"I don't know. The last time I saw him I was in my room and he was talking to me about the new lame German policies we'd enforce… then I went to bed and he left the room." he looked outside the window as the scenery changed from city to country side. "He said he'd be back to check on me…"

"Were you sick?"

He snorted. "The awesome me doesn't get close to even a sniffle, but I was feeling weak…"

England stared at the road, frowning in thought. He knew the German to be an uptight and strict man, but never heartless enough to ignore the passing of his brother—or so he thought.

Prussia had died. That fact swam around in his mind for a while, never quite registering with him. Perhaps it was the fact that Prussia was sitting there with him, uniform and all. It didn't feel real to him, for the first time something like death seemed implausible, and yet here it was. He couldn't help but sneak glances at the Prussian every now and again. His handsome face stared thoughtfully out the window, almost expressionless in his pensive state. England frowned, this was nothing like the Prussia he once knew, the Prussia that had been not but a few minuets earlier. Yet he felt compelled by that look, there was something so deep, not quite sadness, yet not dull either. England never knew he could wear such an expression before, it made him look mature and mysterious. He quickly looked back to the road, feeling a slight blush fall across his cheeks.

'Oh stop it!' he scolded himself, 'It's still Gilbert after all! There's nothing remotely attractive about that loud mouth, brash, tosser!' He kept his eyes on the road, yet at the same time he took in the scenery around them.

They had long since crossed over into the country side, riding along side rolling hills and gray moors. There was a light fog that hugged the ground, just above the blanket of snow. The forest trees were bare of their leafs, and snow piled on the branches. The gray sky above nearly matched the different tones in the Prussian's white hair. His red eyes were like the holly berries in winter. His skin, though pale, had a slight tint of peach that made him seem healthy and as if he were alive.

England had noticed those several features of the former nation; he had been sneaking glances at him every few minuets. It had almost distracted him from the sounds of the little ghost that tugged on his shirt.

"_There, turn down there."_ she motioned. Arthur did so without another thought. The car began to drive down a dirt road that lead to the dark forest. Prussia sat up straighter and looked about him as they entered the forest.

"In a forest? Why would your mother be here?" he asked the little girl.

"_This is where we lived."_ she said. _"Mummy has to be here…"_

"I hope so." Prussia just barely heard England whisper. His green eyes were filled with… what was it? Gilbert couldn't quite read it due to the mask of indifference that Arthur wore, but there was something in his eyes. Fear maybe? He couldn't tell.

The car pulled up to the drive way of an old manor. It was three stories high and had a rusted gate surrounding it. Arthur and Gilbert looked to the old manor as they stepped out of the car. The little ghost jumped out of England's arms and began running towards the gate. She passed through it and entered the building.

"Awesome, that was easy." laughed Gilbert. He stopped when he noticed Arthur running. "Where are you going?"

"After her, of course."

"What?" he whined, "She's gone now!"

"Well I have to make sure she found her mother alright." He said. He seized the rusted gate with his hand and tried to pull it apart. He had almost succeeded when he suddenly yelped and drew his hand back, clutching it.

"What's wrong?" Gilbert was at his side before he realized it. Arthur clutched his wrist and was looking at his hand.

"It's nothing, I just got cut." He said. Gilbert saw the rusted scratch and saw that it was bleeding.

"Idiot." He muttered. Arthur turned to snap back at him when his wrist had been seized by Gilbert and held in front of him. Gilbert took a handkerchief from within his sleeve and began tying it around Arthur's hand. "You should have asked me to do it for you."

"Wh… why would I do that?"

"Duh, isn't that why you summoned a guardian?" he smirked.

Arthur looked to him, trying his best not to let the red tint appear across his face once more. Prussia was busying himself with the tourniquet, so he didn't see the little bit of emotion that Arthur let slip. When he had finished, he then walked over to the gate and gripped it with both hands. He powerfully swung the gate open, his hands had deep cuts on them.

"Your hand!" Arthur exclaimed. He then saw that though they had been cut, no blood flowed from them. The skin merely fit its self back into place and the hand was healed. Prussia stared at his hands, a shiver of some emotion he couldn't quite place ran down his being. If there was any more proof that Prussia was still a nation that existed only in the textbooks, then that had been it. He shook his head, as if to rid himself of the strange and un-awesome feeling, before turning back to Arthur.

"Well are we going in or not?"

"Oh… right." he nodded.

The two of them walked across the snow covered yard. Arthur noticed that there were a few stone fountain placed here and there, and before the circle driveway was a small iced over pond. They walked up the icy steps and up to the rotting wooden doors. Arthur reached out to open them, but Prussia pushed him back and did it for him.

"I didn't need you too—" he started.

"Forget it, you're still nothing but flesh and blood! Your pansy, British ways have softened you up so much that I, the awesome Prussia, have to even open doors for you so you won't sever and artery or something like that."

"Oh well thanks for being _so_ considerate." his tone thick with sarcasm. "Now if you don't' mind," he brushed past him and entered the house. The entrance room was tall and wide, with a half circle stair case that lead up to the second floor. He looked about for any sign of the little girl, but couldn't see her. "Lizzy," he called. "Lizzy are you here?"

"Who's Lizzy?"

"The ghost, obviously." He chided. He turned back around. "Lizzy?" he stepped forward, listening for any signs of her sobs. Prussia followed him, peering about as he went. Everything was silent, not even the smallest sniffle or sob to be heard. England let out a breath and stood upright. "Well, what do you know? She probably did pass on."

"I told you."

"Alright, so you bloody did." He grumbled, turning around to face him.

"Can we go now?"

"Of course! Do you think I want to stand around in this old musty place?"

"Isn't that your hobby?"

"GHOSTS AREN'T A HOBBY!" he yelled, infuriated. His face turned red once more, and Prussia couldn't help but smirk at it.

"You always did look like a tomato when you were mad."

"I only look this way because of you." he frowned.

"Can we go now?"

"Yes!" He began to walk past him, when suddenly they heard a terrified scream. They turned back, looking to the second floor where the scream came from. "Lizzy?" yelled Arthur.

"_Help me!"_ she cried out. Without thinking, Arthur ran at full speed to the stair case.

"Wait a second!" Prussia cried out as he ran after him. Arthur didn't stop now that he could hear the little ghost's sobs coming from. He ran past the threshold and down the long hallway, letting the voice guide his way.

"I'm coming Lizzy!" he yelled out. He finally reached the end of the hallway where a large oak door towered over him. He immediately seized the golden handle and swung it open. The wind he cause blew dust and paint flecks at his face. He rubbed his eyes, growling at his own stupidity, before opening his eyes enough to look inside.

A man stood in the middle of the room, dressed in a 17th century lordly outfit. His long back curly hair bordered his face, and menacing blue eyes stared back at England. In his grasp was the young ghost, who was crying and pleading with the man.

"_Be gone with you!"_ yelled the angry ghost to Arthur.

"Unhand her!"

"_You will not drag her to hell!"_ he yelled back. He jerked his daughter towards him, holding a knife to her throat. She sobbed and begged for her mother, trying to push the blade away. England was surprised to find that she looked like a normal girl once more, though both she and her father were still transparent. Her blue eyes were wide with fear and looked to Arthur pleadingly.

It was then that Prussia raced up behind Arthur and looked into the room. He shoved Arthur out of the way and glared at the man.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"_Leave my house!"_ he ordered. _"I'd rather my whole family and I die than go with you! Leave me alone!" _his crazed eyes were wide and wild as he stared at Prussia. He held the knife to the little girl's throat, threatening to stab her.

"Prussia, be careful," warned Arthur.

"Why, they're already dead. He can't hurt her."

"That's not true, he can do so much worse than what he's already done to her! He's trapped her into a continuous loop, so she'll relive the moment she was murdered over and over again! It's all real to her!"

Prussia looked back to the crazed ghost, frowning.

"That's no where even close to awesome."

"We've got to get him away from her" said Arthur, coming into the room as well.

"_Stay back!"_

Prussia rushed the ghost, but as soon as he got close enough he was stabbed in the chest. Arthur's breath caught in his throat before he could even gasp upon seeing that. Prussia backed out from the blade, feeling the hole patch its self back up underneath his hand.

"Thanks for the heads up about the real dagger!" he called back to Arthur.

"How was I to know? Most manifestations can't even pick up an object from our world." He snapped back.

"Yea well in that case it's up to me to handle him, just stay out of my awesome way."

"But you can't just—"

Gilbert ignored him as he began to engage the ghost in a fist fight. The ghost threw his daughter aside as he tried to slash and stab at Gilbert.

"_Cursed demon!"_ he cried._ "Come no closer! Come no closer to me!"_

Gilbert tried anything he could to land a hit on the ghost, but of course his fists had hardly any effect. He slashed at Gilbert's chest, creating another large tear in his uniform. Gilbert staggered back, holding his chest in pain. It seemed as though every time he were hit, the pain would grow worse, perhaps his immortal body did have some limits. This had bought the ghost enough time to run around him and back over to his child.

"_I'll save your soul Elizabeth,"_ he said, _"You father is here! I'll make it so this demon never touches you!" _he lifted his knife up high, the little girl screamed. Prussia ran and caught the ghost by the arm. To both the ghost and Arthur's surprise, he was holding the ghost from stabbing his daughter! The ghost was grabbed then, and flung across the room! It passed through the wall and disappeared. Gilbert sniffed at the direction the ghost had disappeared, then turned back to Lizzy.

"Are you alright, kid?" he asked. She nodded back to him, then looked over to where Arthur stood in the doorway.

"_Oh no!"_

"Gah!" Arthur cried.

Prussia turned to see the ghost had reappeared and was chocking Arthur with his arm. He held the nation in place, the dagger still in his hand, and pressed it against his left temple. Arthur gave a pleading look to Prussia, something the former nation had never seen on England's face before. That look made his heart nearly skip a beat.

"Let him go!" Gilbert ordered. "Or I'll—"

"_So, the devil has a weak spot does he?" _a wild look came over him just then, crazed and sinister. _"Who is this to you, hmm? Someone dear perhaps? Wouldn't want me to slip and plunge my blade through him, would you?"_

Prussia's anger began to build, he shook with rage.

"I said let him go, NOW!"

"_Let us see if devils can cry." _Arthur quickly set both his hands on the arm that held him. He chanted in Gaelic, causing the ghost to freeze in fear. _"Witchcraft!" _

Lightning suddenly shot from Arthur's hands and spread throughout the ghosts' body. It yelled out in frustration as the bolts messed with its energy, and Arthur slipped through. Further enraged, the ghost wildly swung his blade, catching Arthur in the shoulder. Arthur's eyes widened as he felt the metal cut through his flesh, a yell escaped him.

"Arthur!" Gilbert caught him before he fell to the ground.

"Shit…" he muttered. "I'm alrigh' Gil…" he put his bandaged hand to his shoulder as fresh blood began pouring out of his wound.

Red eyes flicked up to the ghost, angrily.

"You son of a bitch…" he growled. He gently sat Arthur up, allowing the little Lizzy to go and sit beside him. She clung to him fearfully, translucent tears filled her eyes. Prussia stood tall, his face angered as he stared fiercely at the ghost. "I'm gonna send you straight to Hell!" he yelled out.

"_I will make sure you never walk this earth again, wretched beast! You and the head of your friend will hang above my mantel, yet!"_

Prussia grit his teeth and stared at the man, he was in no way his right mind. The crazy bastard was willing to kill his own daughter, and had nearly killed England, he had made himself an enemy of Prussia. Yet he wasn't sure how to handle the ghost, what could he do to someone already dead? His mind raced with what to do.

"Gil," said Arthur, quietly. "You can't just swing at him and hope for the best, it won't do any good! We'll have to exercise his spirit from the house."

"I don't know how to do that!"

"I do." He grabbed Gilbert by the sleeve, forcing Prussia to look at him. "Get him to hold still, and I'll do the rest."

With that, Prussia turned back to fact the ghost. He pointed to him, a smirk appearing on his face.

"Did you hear that? The awesome me is going to send your pasty ass straight to Hell! No one can beat Prussia!"

Enraged, the ghost ran at Gilbert and brought his knife down on him. Gilbert allowed the blade to stick into his shoulder, feeling the sharp pinch that went with it. He grit and bared the pain and captured the ghosts arm. The ghost did his best, but for whatever reason he couldn't get out of Gilbert's grasp.

"Ha! Not so tough are you?"

England was suddenly next to them, a small cross rosary was held in his hand and was thrust at the ghost. Arthur's catholic prayers were spoken in old English, and he was pushing the cross closer and closer to the ghost. The man began to scream and tried to get out from under Gilbert's grasp, yelling for god to help him and saying he didn't want to go to hell.

Soon the ghost was growing more and more faint, his voice sounding so distant. His angry yells and scream suddenly died out, and Gilbert felt nothing in his grasp. It was somewhat anti-climactic, the threat had been dissolved just like that. The air around them felt slightly less heavier than it had before. Gilbert clutched the blade still in his shoulder and looked around, still feeling wary that the ghost would come back.

"Don't worry Gil, he's gone now." breathed Arthur. "Is your shoulder… hurt?"

"Don't worry about me."

Gilbert pulled the dagger out of his shoulder, feeling the wound begin to mend on its own again.

They looked over to Lizzy; she was smiling back at them. Her face, though still see through, had a bit more color to it, a slightly fleshy tint as she smiled at the two of them. Arthur smiled back. "I'm glad to see you're okay, little one. Looks like we still need to find your—"

"_Mother!"_ cried Lizzy. Both men turned around to see a tall, transparent woman in a long dress look to her.

"_Elizabeth!"_ she cried out. Without noticing the other two in the room, she ran to her daughter. Her arms outstretched, she knelt down and embraced her daughter in a tight hug. _"I've been waiting for you for so long!"_

"_He's gone, mummy, he's gone now!"_

"_Oh I know, my darling, and I'm so relieved."_

"_They helped me." _She said, pointing to England and Prussia. The beautiful woman, her brown locks like Lizzy's, turned her brown eyes to them.

"_Thank you, the both of you."_

"It was nothing," smiled Arthur. He cradled his shoulder. "We're just glad she found her mother."

"Maybe in the next life you'll find a guy who isn't so crazy." Prussia smiled. He received a kick in the side from Arthur. The woman laughed at that before turning to Arthur.

"_My husband wasn't always like this, he use to be such a kind and gentle man."_ she explained.

"Him? Kind and gentle?" Gilbert scoffed. The woman nodded, her mood changing to melancholy.

"_One night he began acting strangely. He said that he had seen the shadows of an animal lurking in the darkness. He was convinced that it was coming for us, to kill us! We sent the servants out to go and see what it was, but they found nothing. He locked himself in his room for weeks and weeks, not coming out for anything and always muttering about saving our souls. He was convinced that the devil had come to take Elizabeth and I away from him. One night he had finally come out of his room and…"_

"_Mother…"_ Lizzy pleaded, tugging on her sleeve.

"_I'm sorry my darling, I'll stop."_ She hugged her child again. Prussia didn't know what the woman was talking about, but Arthur's thoughtful gaze told him that he would soon get an explanation.

The ghosts were suddenly glowing a golden light. The mother sat up again and looked to the men, smiling once more.

"_I suppose it's time we say goodbye." _She looked to her daughter._ "Be sure to thank…"_

"My awesome self is Gilbert, and he's Arthur." He said. He didn't notice England's glare.

She nodded back.

"_Be sure to thank Gilbert and Arthur for all their help."_

"_Thank you, oh thank you so much for helping me find my Mother."_

"Be a good girl now," Arthur waved.

"The awesome me gives you an awesome good bye."

Arthur gave Gilbert another swift kick to his side.

"Idiot!" he snapped. The women laughed as they were turned into swirling balls of light, then they shrunk out of view and disappeared.

The room was silent once more, and both men could no longer feel the presence of either ghost. Gilbert let out a breath and stretched.

"Well… that's something even someone as awesome as myself has never seen before. Did you see how I totally kicked that guys butt? Man I am so great I… England?"

England's gaze was to the floor, his hand was still clutching his still bleeding cut on his shoulder. Gilbert nearly missed Arthur when he fell forward. He let Arthur's head rest on his chest and he saw how deep the gash was.

"Holy shi— not awesome!" he grabbed Arthur's shoulders and shook him. "Come on, limey, wake up!"

"I— I'm awake!" he snapped irritated. "I-I must have just passed out accidentally… that's all." He put a hand to his face, his single, sleepy green eye gazing up at Prussia.

The other couldn't' help but be lost in a stare that was so distant, yet brave all the same. He looked away as he answered.

"Well that's not exactly a good thing for you right now." He suddenly knelt down and picked Arthur up, carrying him in his arms

"Wha— what the bloody hell do you think you're doing!"

"Be quiet. I'm carrying your unawesome butt because you'll take forever to get to the car on your own."

"Bastard, I don't need your help!"

"Oh yea? Then why did you summon a guardian?" he flashed a wicked grin at him as they headed out of the room.

"I… I… That's none of your damned business!" he cried out. His face turned red once more.

888

Okay, okay! I know! There wasn't a lot of heavy romance right then, but I'm getting the plot out of the way! I feel every story needs a good plot.

0/_/0

….

Okay! So I've never written a romance before! But I promise that this will be good, I mean, really good! Tell me what you think.


	5. I Believe You

4) I Believe You

By Eden Killinger

There had been some chaos and confusion on the car ride back to England's manor. Prussia had insisted that he drive, seeing as how Arthur's blood loss would make him too woozy to concentrate, or even stay awake. As soon as Prussia had put Arthur down and climbed into the driver's side, England immediately began to protest.

"You don't know how to drive my car!" said Arthur, "it'd be just as dangerous with you driving rather than myself."

"I've driven a car before." He said, looking everything over. "I was disband after world war II, not in the 17th century. Besides, I'm so awesome that I'll drive like a pro no matter what! Just point me to where the clutch and hand break are and you'll see."

"Good lord…" He pulled and bucked himself in the car. Prussia noticed that, then copied him as well.

"Gah, this thing is tight and un-awesome."

"It'll save your life in an accident."

"It's still weak." He un-clipped it and let out a breath. "I can't die, anyhow!" he flashed Arthur a handsome and confident grin.

"I-Idiot…" he grumbled and looked out the window. Gilbert's smile remained in his mind for a few seconds more, a light blush coming over his face for perhaps the fourth time that day.

The car started easily enough, and Arthur heard him shift gears. The car suddenly gave a roar and they were jetted backwards! Gilbert pressed the breaks, saving them from nearly smashing into a tree.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" screamed Arthur, making him feel light headed in the next moment.

"Man this thing is touchy…" Gilbert mused, ignoring England. "Okay, I got this now." He grinned again. "Don't worry Arthur, the awesome me is here to guard you."

"I'm going to die…" he said, covering his face with his undamaged hand.

The car started once more and Prussia peeled out of the edge of the forest and went careening down the dirt road! Arthur hung on to the dashboard for dear life as the car lifted and bounced along the un-even and slick road.

"Man this is great!" yelled Prussia, happily, "West _never_ lets me drive!"

"I can see why!" he cried out, eyes shut tightly as they went.

It had been a frightening drive back home for England. He had passed out every few minuets, but had awakened every time to Prussia nearly hitting another car, or running a red light. After nearly swerving into a large truck, England passed out for the final time. When he woke up he found that he was lying down. He opened his eyes, feeling the headache that followed his action. He saw that he was in his room, on his own bed and underneath the sheets.

He stared at the ceiling for a few moments, not a thought crossed his mind as the headache set in. He closed his eyes and turned over, feeling sick. 'Was it all just a dream?' he wondered silently. He opened his eyes and looked out the window to discover that the day had gone and night had fallen on his land. It snowed peacefully, the flakes illuminated by the table lamp on his bed side. He sat up then, wincing when a sharp pain came from his shoulder. He put a hand on it, and was surprised to discover that it had been bandaged. He looked to his hand and noticed that it too had been properly bandaged up with medical tape. Realizing who had fixed him up he let out a breath, almost as if in relief. He placed his hand back on his wounded shoulder, remembering exactly how he had received it. He remembered the crazed ghost wringing his neck. He remembered the fear in Prussia's eyes as he looked to him, staring at Arthur with worry, then demanding that he be released. He couldn't help but let a small smile trace his lips as he thought about that.

"_Let him go!"_

Someone had defended him from the supernatural, something even America had been blind to all his life. He laughed at the thought of bragging to America how someone else had been the hero instead of him, yet it was bittersweet. He had always wished to share that whole world with him, but it was an impossible dream. Alfred never wanted to believe, he denied it every time it was brought up and laughed in England's face about it.

Arthur clutched the bed sheets unconsciously as he remembered Alfred's words.

"_Hey, Yao, Iggy's seeing things again!" "Talking to your imaginary friends?" "Fairies aren't real!" "You're making it up again."_

'Stupid America…' he thought, 'What does he know anyway, the brat!' he felt his face flush once more, remembering when he had been just a little colony. He had believed everything England had told him, had demanded stories at bed time, and wanted to hear about the tricks gnomes and pixies played back in England's home. England frowned at the sheets as he continued along his train of thoughts, America's voice going through his head, insulting, begging, laughing… laughing….

"Finally, you're awake!"

Arthur yelped in surprise and looked to the doorway. Prussia was standing leaned against the door frame, his head tilted down yet those piercing red eyes looking to him. He was no longer dressed in his uniform, but had on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans with chains connecting from pocket to pocket. England recognized those from his Punk days (which he secretly was still in).

"What are you doing in my cloths?" he demanded.

"I can't wear my uniform all the time, can I?" he asked.

"You went through my things and you stole my cloths!"

"Stole is a harsh word, I'm _borrowing_ them. It's not like you're in the business of wearing any right now anyway." He smiled. Arthur arched an eyebrow, then the feeling of a draft against bare skin registered in his mind. He pulled the sheets over his torso.

"You undressed me?" he gasped. He could still feel that he had his boxers on, but that was it.

"I needed to get to your wound." He shrugged.

"And my pants? Why on earth did you take off my… why!" he demanded. Prussia flashed him another teasing grin as he watched England become even more flustered.

"Relax, being as awesome as I am, I was just helping you get comfortable. Who sleeps in their cloths, anyway?"

"I DO!" he held up a hand and pointed a finger at him, "Now take my cloths off and— no, wait, I mean, ARG!" he held his head in frustration as he heard Prussia laugh at him. "Take off my cloths and put yours back on!" he demanded.

Prussia shook his head at him, giving a wicked grin.

"What are you going to do? Get out of bed and make me?"

England sat there, stunned as he searched for something to threaten him with. Before he could say anything, however, Prussia was already taking steps closer to him as he examined himself.

"Besides, for someone as stuffy as you, you've got some pretty awesome cloths."

Arthur had to admit that the tight black pants and loose white T did make Prussia look good, hell it made him damn attractive. He found himself staring at him for a moment until he remembered that he himself had nearly nothing on. Regaining his composure he fought off the urge to continue staring as he spoke.

"Who are you calling stuffy?" he demanded. Prussia laughed.

"You're just too easy." He chuckled.

"Sh-shut up!"

"There you go again! Red as Spain's tomato, it's almost cute."

"I am not!" he put a hand to his face, realizing dreadfully that his cheeks were hot. "Idiot!" he cried out.

Prussia laughed and ducked out of the room for a moment, before coming back into view with a sandwich on a plate. Arthur watched him walk over, surprised. "What is this?"

"Dinner, obviously." He placed the plate down on Arthur's lap. "You should thank me, it's not everyday that someone as awesome as my awesome self cooks something so awesome." He smirked.

"You say awesome one more time and I'll…" He held up one of his pillows, threateningly. Prussia only smiled and went to drag a chair over to England's bedside.

England eyed him for a moment, then looked back to the sandwich.

"What's in it?" he asked.

"Oh come on," smirked Prussia, "Did you think I poisoned it or something?"

"I'm just curious."

"Take a bite then."

Arthur hesitated, picking up the sandwich and looking at it. He could feel Prussia's gaze on him.

"Are you just going to sit there and watch me eat?"

Prussia shrugged with an air on nonchalance and looked to the window instead. England frowned at him, then turned back and took a bit of the sandwich. He was surprised that the taste was delicious. He could taste sausage, as well as lettuce and kraut. It tasted like something Germany would eat, yet it was spiced and had an actual flavor to it rather than just mustard.

"It's good…" he mumbled quietly, as if surprised.

"Of course it is."

Arthur ignored him and continued eating, sneaking glances at Prussia who was still turned to the window. The man was silent again, his expression pensive and his gaze distant. Arthur just looked at him, captivated by the air of mystery around that look. Prussia turned back to him and smiled, arching an eyebrow.

"Like something you see?"

"I— no!" he turned back and took another quick bite of sandwich, when he realized something and turned back. "Have you had anything to eat yourself?"

"No."

"No? Weren't you starving when you first arrived?"

Prussia looked away from him, a smile still apparent, but he seemed embarrassed as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yea, I was kinda lying."

"Huh? Why on earth…?"

"Well if someone is already indebted to you for an explanation, you may as well get all you can out from them, right?" he smiled. Yes, thought England, this was Prussia after all. He let out a breath and shook his head at him.

"Honestly," he muttered before taking another bite of sandwich. "And what about now? Not hungry?"

"To be honest, I'm not even tiered." He shrugged. He suddenly gave out a laugh and sat up straighter. "I must be invincible, not like I wasn't before, but now I'm even more awesome!"

'The time in between the inflations of his ego are short and missed.' England thought. Yet he smiled as Gilbert continued, secretly at peace with the fact that someone was beside him in his home, though he'd never admit it.

"Hey, I've got a couple of questions, about earlier." said Gilbert. "About the ghosts, actually."

"You do?" this was certainly a rare experience. Gilbert nodded back to him.

"When I first saw Lizzy she had a noose around her neck and her eyes were gone! She looked like something from out of a horror novel. I mean she was ugly, even if it was kind of awesome."

"The question?" Arthur asked, annoyed.

"When we went back to the old house she looked like a little girl, and if she didn't die from the noose or having her eyes gouged out, then why did she look like that?"

Arthur set his meal aside as he began to consider the question.

"Lizzy had run away from her home to seek help from someone. Whatever it was that had possessed her father was determined to continue wallowing in their sadness I'd think."

"What, you mean a demon?" he asked in disbelief.

"I do." He looked to him seriously. "Remember whenever her father had spoken to you? He seemed convinced you were the devil. Perhaps whatever had caused the fit of madness the father had suffered had also made her to look so terrifying so that nobody would help her."

"There's something that can do that? That's so not awesome!"

"Indeed." Arthur paused and suddenly felt a bit of fear creep over him. "Now that we've messed with the demon's feeding ground, I suppose it'll move on to another home, another family perhaps."

"It's still out there?"

"Well then again I hadn't felt anything present, so perhaps it had moved on long ago." he reasoned. "These sorts of things are rare, but frighteningly powerful."

"And now what? Do we go after it? I don't want to get possessed or anything— not that I'm afraid or anything."

"No, no, there's no telling where it is now. I scarcely know exactly what kind of demon it is anyway. It could be anything, anywhere, and I don't have time for such a frivolous chase." He frowned and picked up his food once more. He looked over to Prussia, who had that pensive look again, but this time it was directed to Arthur. Feeling suddenly flustered he looked about himself, sure he was mistaken that that look was for him alone.

"What is it?" he frowned. Prussia let out a breath and leaned back in the chair.

"How do you deal with it?"

Arthur stared at him for a few moments, then put his meal back down and held his chin up.

"I just don't let it get to me, I suppose. If one thinks to hard about these things they could become paranoid."

"But all these ghosts and demons, what if they attacked you. It's not like anyone would believe you enough to help you out, right?"

"Well, I've never really just been randomly attacked." He muttered. "Besides, today I was merely caught off guard because you were there. I'm fine on my own, really." There was his mask of indifference, yet Prussia could see that look in his eye once more. His brow furrowed as he tried to place exactly what that look was.

"Then why did you summon a guardian?"

"That question again," Arthur rolled his eyes and looked away. "I told you, it's none of your business."

"Isn't it? I am your guardian." He smirked.

"Not by choice."

"Still," He reminded. He waited for England to answer for only a moment more before growing bored and moving on. "Oh come on, doesn't anyone else believe you?"

England huffed and folded his arms.

"No, and if memory serve me right— which it does!—you didn't believe me either!"

"What about America? Aren't you guys close?" He heard England mutter darkly right then. "I assume that loud mouth is still around?"

"Look at the pot calling the kettle black. Yes he's still around, and no he doesn't believe me. Far from it, in fact." He went silent for a moment as he thought. "Out of everybody who thinks I'm crazy, he's the worst. Stupid git. He calls my crazy, says I'm making it up, laughs and blows me off… treats me like a child when I'm the one who— who… bloody hell…." he turned away from Gilbert then, feeling the tears of frustration again. He bit his lower lip, stubbornly refusing to let any bit of that emotion come through. He kept talking, hoping to keep the façade going. "He's a jerk, that's all, just a jerk! A stupid jerk!"

Gilbert watched him, his expression raised a bit as he watched England gather himself up again. He then let out a breath— and suddenly Arthur felt more weight on the bed. He sat up straighter, but before he could turn around he felt Prussia pressed up against him.

"Then just blow him off right back." he said. Arthur froze as he felt the back of Gilbert's head against his. "Forget about what everyone else thinks, that's what I do."

Arthur frowned to himself. He knew that to be the right answer, but there was something more that bothered him about that kind of resolve. Feeling the pressure on his back, he let a smile slip out once more, knowing that it couldn't be seen.

"You say that like it's so easy."

"It is. Just forget everything that the world has ever said and shove it back in their face."

"That's childish." He continued to smile.

"No, childish would be sticking your fingers in your ears and going— bla bla bla bla! Which I do when West is talking."

England turned his head a bit, arching and eyebrow as he gave a laugh. Prussia turned back to England, his face close to his as he spoke.

"Just forget them, after all the awesome me is here now, and I believe you."

Once more Arthur found himself staring into those red eyes that were suddenly so gentle in their confidence. He felt almost hypnotized by that look, so compelled to lean in and… he broke away from his gaze before he could get sucked in anymore, turning his head and folding his arms.

"Oh well if that's all then I suppose I should count my blessings then, eh?" he scoffed.

Prussia shifted and sat back. They were silent for a few moments, England's mind raced with something to say, but he was too distracted with where the Prussian sat.

"Well, I suppose I should go to bed now." he said.

"I guess." He shrugged.

England felt the weight shift off of his bed and he pushed himself back and pulled the covers up. He turned on his side, waiting for Prussia to leave when suddenly the light clocked off. He turned back, curious, when once more he felt a weight on the bed and felt Gilbert lie down next to him. England shot up and pushed himself as far from him as he could before nearly falling off the bed.

"Wha-what do you think you're doing!" he yelled. With the aid of the moon light he could just see those red eyes as they looked to him, confused.

"Going to bed, right?"

"I didn't mean in here!"

"You're really loud."

"Get off!" he kicked him off the bed. Prussia fell with a thud and the sound of an 'ouf!'. He stood back up and glared down at England.

"What was that for?"

"There's no way you're sleeping in here with me!"

"What am I suppose to do? Someone as awesome as myself is not laying on the ground all night!"

"You dolt, there's a spare room down the hall and to the left!"

"Besides, aren't I suppose to guard you or something? Isn't that my job? I don't even know if this body will let me sleep or not!"

"I don't care! Try! You can guard me from the spare room."

Prussia muttered and turned to walk away. He opened the door and slammed it shut, but the door opened and Prussia stuck his head in.

"Good night, limey." He stuck his tongue out and shut the door again.

Arthur watched the door for a few moments, letting the new silence in the room take him. He sniffed and lay back in bed.

'Stupid git.' he stared at the ceiling once more, a thoughtful frown coming over his face.

"_Why did you summon a guardian?_" Prussia's voice rang out in his head. He wondered quietly to himself, knowing full well that the answer was he wanted help against the ghosts. Yet, he had been fine dealing with them in the past, and the others had never taken him seriously. His eye lids began to close, sleep was close at hand.

'I'll never tell…' he promised himself, before falling asleep.

As he slept, he began to dream. It started off as crazy as any dream he had. Italy was sitting on top of a large ravioli while Germany was trying to beat it up with a regular sized bratwurst. Russia was busy being a wrecking ball, and colliding into every nations capital in the world while laughing in his creepy childish voice. England was sitting, watching all of these events play out in front of him as he sipped on his tea cup that had bread pudding in it.

'Typical.' He thought, blandly.

"Yet, entertaining, isn't it?"

"I suppose so." He took another sip. "If the marsh hasn't been stapled down, I suspect China to leave." Dream speak only makes sense in one's own mind.

"Yes," laughter, "how charming, but do be serious though…"

It was then that suddenly England felt something next to him, noticing the voice for the first time. His head was turned by his chin. Smoke trailed from where he felt the grasp and to the shadow that hid the voice. He suddenly felt alarmed.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Poor lonely Briton…" the voice whispered. "Little, small England with nobody to play with…"

Before he could raise his voice to ask he felt everything around him shift somehow. The smoke let go of him and dissipated, and he looked back to the scene in front of him. It had changed, and he was now sitting in a boggy moor, alone. He stood up, the water level was up to his knees, and suddenly he was clutching a familiar dark green cloak he wore as a child. He looked around, wondering quietly where exactly he was. He began trudging through the moor, searching for any sign of life.

"Hello…?" he called out. "Anyone here?"

"Hello… nobody here…" said his echoes. The darkness began to feel confining, and he clutched his cloak tighter to himself. It felt as though something were watching him, yet he saw no one.

"America?" he waited, listening. "China?" a pause, "Frog?" he called out for France. He felt chilled as soft laughter emanated over and around him, seeming to come from the dead trees themselves.

"Poor little England… so small and alone."

"I am not!" he shouted back. "I am not alone!"

"Little lonely England, nobody to turn to… with nobody to love… come here… come here…" the fog around him began to circle in small wisps around him. He watched as they'd trail across his cheek and up his chest, dissipating when they rose above him. They were like little hands, petting and stroking him, as if he belonged to it. "Come… come…" the whispered cooed. Unsettled, England waved off the fog around him and shook his head.

"No!" he yelled.

"Come… stay with us…"

"Go away!" he yelled, finding his voice had become young and child like.

"England…! England…!"

"Go away!"

His eyes shot open and he sat up in bed. Sun shined in through his window, peeking through the clouds, light flooded the room, but everything still seemed so dark to him. He drew his arms back and held his shoulders, an odd sort of violation came over him. He looked around the room, it was still and quiet, he couldn't see anyone.

'Calm down England old boy,' he thought, 'It was just a dream… just a nightmare thanks to yesterday's events.' He let out a breath and held his face in his hands. He continued to calm himself down, nearly succeeding when suddenly there was a loud bang from down stairs. He jumped, looking to his door. Fear gripped him, and for a few moments he worried if it was the demon from the old house. He threw the covers off of himself and searched for his robes. He winced once more as the bangs started up again. He pulled on his pants and left it at that, running to his door.

He rushed into the hall, and saw that Prussia was standing outside of his own doorway, looking out in confusion.

"England, what's up?"

He didn't answer and ran to the stairs. He heard a couple more bangs, until finally his front door was slammed open.

"England!" yelled out the voice of Alfred. Arthur froze from where he stood on the staircase, looking to the American in shock. America spotted him, and then stood up right and smiled. "There you are."

888

Oh dear! A little bit of England Prussia budding romance, I hope that you enjoyed it! Please let me know if I'm doing alright or if there's something more I could be doing in the romance department! Suggestions and comments are welcomed. Eden Killinger


	6. The Truth, Unheard

5) Arthur's Truth, Unheard

By Eden Killinger

England stared down from where he stood on the staircase, clutching the railing in shock. America's cerulean blue eyes, so wide and carefree, stared up at him with what England could only place as relief.

"There you are." smiled America. England shook himself out of his stupor, putting a frown on his face.

"You idiot! What are you doing breaking in to my house at all hours of the morning?"

"I came to see you of course."

England sniffed and turned his head away.

"What makes you think I want to see you?"

He couldn't help but grit his teeth as soon as he heard America give a hearty laugh. He looked back over to him, annoyed, yet did nothing as the taller country stepped closer to him.

"I'm relieved, I thought something was wrong." he paused in that moment, his eyes falling on England's bandaged hand and the tape that was wound around his shoulder. "Something is wrong… How'd you get those?"

England looked to his hand, considering what exactly he should tell the nation. He felt that hole in his chest when he remembered America's laughter towards him just the other day. He frowned and folded his arms once more.

"I don't think that's any of your business."

"Aw come on Iggy, I was real worried about you yesterday. You didn't answer either of your phones. I called you several times, yesterday."

Arthur looked back over to England, surprised. Alfred had really been so worried for him?

"Even your boss didn't know where you were."

"You called my boss? _Again_?"

"No, just the once." He shrugged. England remembered the gut wrenching conversation he had had with the Prime Minister then and he felt anger boil up inside him once more.

"You stupid ass, do you know the kind of tongue lashing I received from my superior? Why couldn't you just leave me alone?"

"How many times do I have to say it? I was worried about you, and I'm starting to think I should still be." He walked over to England, reaching out for his damaged hand. England had drawn it back but America was quick to catch it again. "You seemed really sad when you ran out on us at the world conference. You had us worried, so Germany had cancelled the rest of the meeting."

"He what?" he couldn't believe that the strict and punctual Germany could blow of a G8 meeting so easily. America gave a nod back to him, giving a small sigh.

"Yea, he told me to tell you the next one is on Friday, and suggests you get plenty of rest. You are going, aren't you?"

"O-Of course I am. I'm a world power, aren't I? I'm not so eager to miss out on meetings like you are."

"I'm glad then." He let go of England's hand, and for a second time England wanted to reach back out and grab the person he had been close to back to him. He folded his arms though and just continued to give his former colony a sour look.

"Well… since you flew all the way out, would you like a cup of tea before you leave?"

"You wouldn't happen to have coffee instead?" he smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. England sniffed and turned to enter the kitchen.

"Typical. I thought I raised you better."

"There's nothing wrong with coffee." America laughed as he followed him.

Prussia quietly stepped down the staircase, looking in the direction that he had heard America and England walk to. He frowned when he heard America's laud voice. Perhaps England could forgive the bumbling idiot so easily, but he was not too keen. After all, America had been one of the allies to snatch his titles away. Despite his dislike towards the American, he was unsure if he should make his presence known. Certainly England hadn't mentioned him, and he wondered if it was merely because the explanation would have been a long and confusing one to the American. Still, he couldn't help but want to go and make himself known. He felt a smile trace across his lips, his red eyes gleaming mischievously.

America and England had settled down at the kitchen table, each one holding their beverage in their hands. They had grown quiet after just having a light argument about England's cooking. America cast his blue eyes on England once more, looking at him over his glasses.

"You never answered me, you know?" he started. England gave a disinterested nod and looked out the window. "How did you get those cuts?"

England let out a tiered breath.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You didn't do it to yourself, did ya?"

"Oh please, don't mistake me for some pathetic attention seeking individual." He scoffed.

"Then how?" he waited but Arthur said nothing, and merely stared at his cup. Arthur leaned forward to him, speaking a bit softer. "You can tell me, Arthur, I'm a hero. If ya can't tell me then who can you?"

"Some hero." He muttered quietly. America didn't seem to catch it and just continued staring at him. England shook his head. "Can't we talk about something else? It's been ages since you actually willingly came over and visited me for tea."

"I've been busy."

"I'm sure." He looked away once more.

"Come on, Iggs, don't look like that." His smile drew Arthur's eyes back to him, drawing him in like they always did. He could swear there was some magic in that gaze, something that made people trust and follow him within those eyes. "I'm telling you the god's honest truth when I say I've been worried about you."

"Oh well if that's what it takes for you to visit."

"Stop trying to change the subject. You really scared me at the meeting. I've never seen you act that way about your imaginary—"

Something in Arthur snapped unexpectedly. His fist slammed down on the table in that instant, sending the cups to jump off their saucers!

"They are _not_ imaginary!" he seemed to almost growl.

"See, that's what I'm talking about!" he then scooted his chair closer to Arthur, his deep blue eyes never leaving green. His hand reached out when he was close enough, lightly grabbing his shoulders. "You have got to tell me what's wrong with you."

"Maybe he did try and tell you, ever thought of that?"

They turned their gaze to who stood leaned against the doorway. America's mouth opened slightly, resembling a stunned cod fish.

"Prussia?" he turned back to Arthur. "What's he doing here?"

"He's—"

"I stayed the night," Gilbert interrupted, walking over, "and I plan to do the same tonight." He reveled in the flustered look that came over America's face.

America and Prussia's relationship had never been a smooth one, they had vastly different opinions about how to treat the world and its people as well as the other countries around them. Where America had always stood with freedom and independence, Prussia had a dark side that had lashed out whenever conquering or on the verge of war. He had a quick temper for war in the past meetings and a power hungry dream of world domination. He had, somewhat, changed his philosophies after he had been stripped of his nation and made to be East Germany, but to the Land of the Free still felt him as a threat.

Seeing Prussia had instantly made America suspicious, and he narrowed his eyes at him, standing as the other drew closer. Prussia smirked, raising an eyebrow at America's defensive state. "Don't' tell me little America is scared of the awesome Prussia?"

"You're East Germany now, Prussia doesn't exist anymore." He corrected, sternly. He turned back to Arthur. "Was it him? Did he hurt you?"

Prussia once more interrupted before England could even open his mouth.

"My, my, we're quick to judge. Isn't it 'innocent until proven guilty'?"

"I swear if I find out you hurt him in any way— why are you even here? Shouldn't you be with your brother West?"

"It's really none of your business why I'm here." he sniffed.

"Alfred, please," said Arthur, "He's not here against my will, I promise. This is all just a misunderstanding, I can assure you," he put a hand on America's arm, which seemed to calm him down slightly.

"Arthur, please tell me what's going on? Why is he here? Why are you hurt?"

"Oh I'll tell you why he's hurt." Prussia interjected. "I'll tell you exactly what happened."

"Prussia, don't!" Arthur pleaded. Gilbert ignored him, his eyes fixed on Alfred.

"He wasn't lying when he had told you that he was being haunted." He smiled. There came a small moan from England. "It was the ugliest looking ghost you'd ever see! Bloody tears, empty sockets, corpse colored flesh! You would have cried in fear like the pansy you are if you'd a seen it." His wicked grin received only an infuriated growl from Alfred. His fear of ghosts was a well known fact, and Gilbert was the type of man to play at anyone's weakness, especially America's.

"Are you trying to tell me that _a ghost_ did this to him?"

"Yea, I am. That's not even half the story though."

"Oh please tell me the rest of this pack of lies, Gilbert," his tone darkened, "it's only making you look even guiltier."

Prussia sniffed at him, unaffected by his words, and continued.

"The ghost that hurt England was a poltergeist that was after the other ghost. Arthur got caught up in the fight, and was hurt." He pointed at his own shoulder the side where Arthur's wound was as he continued. Alfred did not seem amused.

"That doesn't explain his hand."

"He tried to open a rusty gate and got cut." He said simply. There was a silence before America shook his head and looked to Gilbert like he was crazy.

"What?" America nearly blew up in half-hearted laugher. "That's the biggest load of crap I've ever heard! Do you expect me to believe that pack of lies, East?"

"That's Prussia to you, lard-o." he snapped back.  
America turned back to England, whose head was in his hands as he refused to show his embarrassment. He said not a word, but felt America's leather gloved hand on his shoulder.

"England, I don't know what's going on, but you know that you can tell me anything, right? Anything but these stories about ghosts and poltergeists! I don't' know how to help you when you're acting like this."

"Acting like what?"asked Arthur, raising an eyebrow.

"Like you're…" he gestured to all of Arthur, at loss for words, "You know?"

Prussia growled and pulled America back by his shoulder, forcing him to turn and face him.

"Maybe he doesn't need your help, ever think of that?"

"Stay out of this!"

"Prussia, do—"

"What are you, in charge? I don't think so."

"I'm warning you to back off." He moved but was turned back around again.

"I'm tellin' you to get out." He shoved Alfred away from Arthur once more. Arthur looked up then, sensing the dangerous mood.

"The both of you, please," he started, but neither of them seemed to hear him.

America stared at Prussia for a moment, mentally counting to ten so as not to let his temper get the better of him. However, he did let a soft chuckle escape his lips as his eyes seemed to flash dangerously.

"Oh-ho… you do not want to get me mad, _East_."

"Oh I'm so scared of little America's tantrum." He taunted him.

"Push me again, and I'll—"

"What? Cry?"

Alfred suddenly raised his fist, and Prussia reacted the same! Alfred swung at him, but Prussia ducked and tried to deck his jaw! Alfred lifted his head, Prussia's fist missing his chin, and he backed into the table, knocking it on its side. He caught Prussia's fist and went for another knock out, but his fist caught as well and they were locked!

"Why are you even here?" Alfred shouted at him.

"Because Arthur needs me!"

"The both of you, just stop!" roared England. They looked to him, his face was red and he looked on the verge of tears, yet he was angrily glaring at the both of them. It was with that look that they suddenly felt like scolded children. Arthur's angered gaze snapped to Prussia first. "You, out!"

"What?" he gasped, surprised.

"Living room, go, now!" he held his hand out that bore the seal on it, and suddenly Gilbert turned right around and was marching to the living room. "You!" he called for Alfred, "What the hell do you think you're doing, taking a swing at my guest!"

"Your _guest_? Do you even remember who East Germany is?"

"I am quite aware." He stopped leaning on the table and folded his arms. "I'd like you to leave now."

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's really going on! Because if you think I'm buying any of the malarkey then—"

"It wouldn't make any damn bloody difference because you won't listen!" he yelled out. Alfred stared at him, stunned.

The tears were threatening to spill down Arthur's cheeks at any moment, yet he strongly held them back as he continued. "You come in here saying you're all worried about me but all you want to hear is some excuse for you to come crashing in and be the hero to inflate your own ego! You're nothing but an overgrown child!"

Alfred frowned at him, not one to be lectured he let his own temper get the better of him.

"I never heard you complaining when I came _crashing in_ to help you out in the world wars! Good thing I did, because from where I was standing you couldn't even defend your own country!" and suddenly he regretted what he said.

Arthur gaped at him, stunned in his anger before finally being able to pull his thoughts together enough to speak.

"How dare you…!" he began to shake with rage. "How dare you barge into my house and say that to me! You have no more right to be here anymore! Get out!"

"Arthur—"

"I SAID GET OUT!" he yelled. "I'll call Prussia back— I'll push you out myself if I have to! Just get out!" then the tears began rolling down his angry red cheeks. Alfred looked to him, searching in his mind to say something. He could find nothing, and instead he turned and walked out of the kitchen, storming past the living room, passing Gilbert, and slamming the door on his way out.

The house was silent from where Gilbert sat on the couch. He scarcely moved except to turn and look for Arthur. No one walked through the door way, not a sound could be heard. He stood up, wondering if he should go and see what had happened to Arthur after the shouting match he had. He quietly stepped over to the door way but leaned against the wall, not quite ready to enter. He could hear very soft breathing that came out in shudders. He cast his eyes to the ground and frowned to himself.

'Doesn't he remember anything I told him last night? Besides, it's not like I was wrong in telling off that idiot. I was totally right, definitely!' yet these thoughts did not dismiss the guilt the Gilbert denied. If he had breath to draw in it would have happened while he mentally prepared himself to face Arthur. Before he could step in front of the door way, he nearly ran into Arthur was strode out and was heading into the living room.

"Gilbert?" he called out. The other hesitated a moment before his called back.

"Here," He said. He hated feeling the way he did, tied down by his guilt and unable to be so awesome. Didn't Arthur see the favor he did for him? Yet he couldn't feel the same anger back.

Arthur looked at him sternly, thinking of what to say as the questions buzzed round in his head like angry bees, only one question rang out clear in his head.

"Why did you have to go and tell Alfred the truth?"

Gilbert frowned, feeling the guilt fester in the pit of his stomach. He was silent, allowing Arthur to answer.

"I mean, after everything I told you about him, what the hell good did you think it would do? You just wanted to mess with him, didn't you? Let's get on Alfred's bad side with Arthur's messed up world, is that it?"

"No way!" he snapped back. "I told him exactly what you should have."

"Oh don't you start with that nonsense. It all sounds very good as a pep-talk but this is the real world."

"Is it my fault that you care too much about what he thinks? If you didn't care about what he said you wouldn't be so angry. He's the stupid one if he can't believe you."

"You don't get it do you? You don't understand at all!" He turned back around and walked away and to the stairs. Gilbert frowned and started after him, running to him.

"What is it? What could the awesomeness that is me possibly not get?" he snapped. Arthur didn't get but two steps up when tried but Gilbert flung his arm out in front of him, baring him off. Arthur opened his mouth to argue back but Prussia was quick to cut him off. "Just so you know I'm on your side! The only reason I stepped in at all was because someone had to jam the truth into that fatty skull of his once and for all. If he can't take it then that's his problem, and you're totally unawesome for letting someone so closed minded make you so mad." With that he gave a quick nod and then turned and marched away to the door.

"Wha— where are you going?"

"Out." He replied, then quickly shut the door behind him.

Arthur frowned and turned back to the stairs. He wanted to take a step forward and go up, but his body suddenly felt numb as Prussia's words sank in.

"Those idiots…" he muttered softly to himself, "running off like that…" only the silence answered him. "Don't they know I hate… that I hate…" he bit his lip, unable to bring himself to announce his weakness. He began to climb the steps once more. He had nearly reached the top step when suddenly his foot slipped out from under him. He fell forward in a heap and slid down the stairs to the first landing. He groaned as he pushed himself back up, his hand quickly reaching to his shoulder. The wound had re opened and a steady trickle of blood began to floor.

"Fuck…" he muttered as the pain pulsed sharply. He heard soft laughter just behind him, like the chuckle of a child. He let out a short laugh that seemed more like a cough. "Entertained, are we?" he asked. He had expected the little voice of Softpetal the fairy or any of his other fairy friends to reply, but herd nothing. He whipped his nose on his sleeve and turned back, looking around. "Eh, Softpetal?" silence. "Beetlebum, is that you?"

But nothing answer. He frowned and began walking up the steps once more, wincing as the pain in his shoulder continued.

Meanwhile, Prussia walked down the snowy path, his hands in his pockets. He frowned and ran a hand through his hair, then realized that he was outside in the snow without a jacket. Yet he wasn't cold at all, hardly even chilly. He shook his head and placed his hand back in his pocket as he continued down the trail, looking out towards the city where he'd try and find something to distract his mind. If he was dead, then he was determined to live it up.

888

OooooOOOooooohhhh, the drama! Next up we have a peek into the mind of Prussia, say Gill, what's it like to be dead? Please leave a review! 3


	7. Remember Prussia

6) Remember Prussia

By Eden Killinger

Prussia walked the cold and snowy streets of London. His venture started off with the want to party, before he realized he had absolutely no money. Yet he couldn't bring himself to turn back and go to England's home; not to someone who had summoned him from the dead only to yell at him.

'Limey grouch.' he thought, scuffing his shoes along the street as he walked. 'I go out of my way for someone else once and he just throws it back in my face! What more could he want from me? I was totally on his side!' He sniffed and began to walk regularly again, yet with a slouch. 'Yea… well who needs him anyway? Maybe I won't go back.' He smiled. "

Oh then he'll be sorry. He'll be all like, 'where's Gilbert, he's so awesome?', or 'help I gave myself food poisoning!', and even 'Ah! I'm lonely without his awesomeness!', or even 'help my shoulder's re-opened and I'm…' bleeding…" His gaze softened slightly. The little twinge of guilt that showed up was immediately shoved back inside of him. Looking for anything to distract him, he stopped and turned his head to look to the snow covered park. It was abandoned, no one would go out in this weather and let their kids play. He began walking towards it, drawing closer to the swing set.

'Selfish, stupid idiot,' he thought bitterly again. 'If I'm so awesome then how can I be wrong? Answer: I can't! Therefore he must be just a stubborn old jack ass!'

He sat down on the swing set, gently kicking himself back and forward. He reached a hand up to his shoulder as he thought of the little chick he once owned. He had named it Gilbird. He smiled as he remembered the little chicks chirps, and how it'd follow him about if ever put down, or rest on his head during the night. That chick had been so close to him, and Gilbert had guarded it against everything the world threw at them. He gave a small laugh and sat up a bit straighter.

'Look at me. I'm getting all sentimental, and what's the point? I'm dead anyhow. I wonder if Gilbird is still alive though.' He looked up in thought as he calculated the years he had been absent. He frowned and hunched back over again. 'I don't think so…' he sighed. 'Ah well. Gilbird was awesome, almost as awesome as me.'

He suddenly thought of his brother, Germany, or West as he had called him. Sure they had never had the strongest brotherly relationship, in fact when it got right down to it they were polar opposites. He could almost feel the headaches he get from Ludwig lecturing him. Yet he couldn't help but feel the corners of his mouth give the smallest tug upward as he remembered the last time he had seen him. It seemed so strange that he had merely lay down for an afternoon nap and just never woke up. Surely West found him, and there wasn't a doubt in his mind if Ludwig knew. He gripped the cold chains that held him up as he asked himself, 'Why didn't you tell anyone? Didn't you care?'

Anger had taken him once more, and he stood up and began to pace about in the snow.

'You know, West! I know you do! When I see you again…' he considered for a moment going off right then and trying to somehow catch a flight back to Germany, until he remembered his money problems again. He sighed, realizing that he really was tied to England. His mind started over once more, and he could hear him in his mind.

"You _don't get it do you? You don't understand at all_!"

'It's not that I don't get it,' in his mind he could see Arthur's face, looking the way it had the night before. 'The only thing I don't get is why he summoned a guardian at all! He's the one who summoned me, and I bother him?'

Arthur wore that mask of indifference so well, one would think it was his true face, but it was his eyes that betrayed him. It had caught Gilbert's attention, and he was determined to find out what those eyes were hiding. It was a side of Arthur that he had never seen before, something new. It was almost exciting, a chance to pick apart the Gentleman façade he had placed almost directly after his unruly pirate days. What drove Arthur Kirkland? What was that nearly sad gaze that looked out to nothing in particular and pleaded for something?

He thought of the day before, remembering the fight with the poltergeist. Prussia had felt a new sense of being the moment Arthur had been in trouble. He had a look Prussia hadn't seen directed at him before, and that had ignited a deeper purpose with in him, a passion he'd never admit was akin to America's hero complex.

He remembered sitting on Arthur's bed next to him, leaning his back against his. He had looked into Arthur's beautiful green eyes that almost seemed to shimmer when he looked back. There was the sweet tinge of red that fell over the Briton's face whenever he grew flustered or embarrassed. He smiled to himself as he remembered Arthur, the one that was willing to run into trouble for others, the one that for one fright filled moment had reached out for Gilbert, the one that had laughed with him on the bed and allowed him to be so close. Nobody had reached out for him like that. He was usually the cause of pain, the awesome warrior who conquered without question and laughed at the enemies defeat. Yet when the battle didn't go as planned, when he had been kicked and punched and was the one being looked down on, at those times he had wished he could have reached out, the way Arthur had. To walk away from that now, after experiencing what it felt like to be needed in that way, he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

He noticed snowflakes had begun drifting down from the sky, carried sideways by a lazy breeze. He looked up to the dark grey sky, watching numbly, only vaguely aware when they land and melt on his cheek or brow. The shell he lived in now, this body granted to him for the soul purpose of guarding another, it was something Prussia had never imagined for himself. He closed his eyes, the bit of anger he felt towards England burn in him once more as he remembered his past life as a nation. His glorious days, his triumph, the nations he had faced and allied with. It was gone, as dead and gone as he had been. The loss hit him then, he was no longer a nation, he wasn't even considered Arthur's guardian according to him. He was as lifeless and cold as the winter snow that drifted around him, existing only as a product of some coincidence.

"Idiot…" he muttered softly. He felt a single tear streak down his cheek, going cold fast. "If you're going to bring me back… at all at least give me a purpose."

Back in the home, Arthur sat in his living room reading a book. The fireplace was lit and keeping the cold at bay. He had fixed up his bandages as best he could on his own. It was past noon already, and England had already had his second tea since that morning. None of his sprites or fairies had come to visit him that day, the house had remained empty as ever. The stern expression he wore was plastered on his face. His large eyebrows furrowed, and a stiff upper lip, he wouldn't allow the hole he felt in his heart grow and take him, not tonight. He concentrated on his book instead. There were moments where he found himself disinterested and would look to the door. He'd stare at it a few moments before he'd catch himself and return to his reading. He told himself over and over again that he wasn't waiting for him, that he was fine on his own. He had always been on his own, he wasn't going to start looking for anyone to lean on now.

"_Why did you summon a guardian?_" asked the memory of Gilbert.

He gave a tired groan and put his book down, admitting defeat. He rubbed his face with his hands before standing up and deciding to go find something more to keep himself busy with. He considered embroidering, wondering if it would be enough. It was then that he remembered that Prussia's uniform had large holes in them from where the dagger had stabbed him. The little hole that had formed in his heart seemed to grow smaller as he remembered that frightening day, how Gilbert had been brave despite everything. He sighed to himself as he remembered yelling at him, how taken back Gilbert had looked.

He began heading up to the guest room that served as Gilbert's room. He opened the door and headed inside, looking around. The room hadn't been occupied enough to have become dirty, but Arthur could see that the bed hadn't been made and that Gilbert's uniform had been carelessly tossed aside and was on the floor. He picked up his jacket and white button up shit, the rips and tears all too obvious. He went over to the dresser then, pulling out the top drawer where he knew a small sewing kit to be. As he closed it, he thought to himself how nice it would be to see someone's cloths occupying that wasted space.

He sat himself down on Gilbert's bed, crossing his legs and laying the lit and shirt out as he got to work on how to best mend it.

Hours quietly passed by, and the loneliness that Arthur felt only increased when as he sat in Gilbert's room. He pressed on, meticulously threading the needle and carefully closing each tear while patching each hole. Though he hadn't been surprised to find other tears in his cloths, he wondered if Gilbert had even known or cared. He probably wasn't the type to be concerned with small things like that.

'After all, he's too busy being _awesome.' _he chuckled to himself quietly, promising himself that he'd never admit that he had called Gilbert awesome. 'Lord I'd never hear the end of it.' The busy work was comforting, he felt most at peace when he was productive. His mind worked only on what was in front of him, allowing no other thoughts to enter his mind.

When the day had turned to evening England had found that he had began struggling to keep his eyes open. He had scarcely blinked when suddenly he felt sleep take him. The dull pain of his shoulder began to throb once more, he felt it even as he slept.

Gilbert opened up the front door to the manor, thankful that it had been unlocked at this time of night. He walked in, unwittingly trailing snow in behind him. His skin was ice cold, but he hardly felt it. He looked about the dark and quiet house, not even the television or radio had been turned on. It was too early for England to have gone to bed, perhaps he had gone out. He didn't think too hard on the subject and merely dragged himself up the stair case to go to his own room. He felt as though he just wanted the day to end. The sleep he had enjoyed the night before had come as somewhat a confusing shock the next day. He paused, thinking about how it was a dead body would be able to find sleep, it had come on so suddenly. It was then he had remembered that England had pointed to him with his hand, perhaps it had been the doing of the seal. He wasn't sure how to feel about the power Arthur had over him, other than the obvious of being annoyed and uncomfortable. He frowned to himself as he thought.

'Hell no! I'm still Prussia—if just in spirit! I fucking hate that little England can do that!' he nodded to himself. He grinned wickedly, thinking of the power he's have if that mark was his and worked on everyone else but him. He'd make Russia clean and polish his shoes every day, he'd force America to tell him how awesome he was every time he saw him and greet him with 'Your Awesomeness'. He'd tell his brother West to go jump in a lake and laugh when he did. Oh yes, things would be different if he had that mark, and not grouchy England. He snickered to himself as he reached his room. He wondered, as he opened the door, what a fitting punishment for England would be if he were in charge of the 'awesome mark', as he had dubbed his imaginary power. It was then he spotted England curled up on his bed and clutching his jacket to him and dozing lightly.

Prussia felt his cheeks go hot as he saw Arthur, helpless and unaware. He quietly stepped closer to him, watching him as he slept and spotting the cause of the visit. In Arthur's fingers was a needle with the thread that trailed to the unfinished tear. Prussia arched an eyebrow, England was showing to be full of surprises these past two days. He gently took the uniform and needle from England, careful not to wake him up. A smile crept across his face as he remembered what exactly Prussia had been known and feared for.

'Seizing Vital Regions,' he chuckled darkly to himself. Of course the term did refer to seizing the vital regions of a Nation's survival, but he had loved the joke that had come with it.

Quietly, and with precision, he climbed on top of the bed and was looking down at Arthur. He was sleeping peacefully, a look that Gilbert hadn't seen on him since the last time England had been sick. He wished he could see those green eyes looking up at him with that mysterious stare. He wanted that look, he wanted to reach out and take, seize it and make it his so that he could understand it. It'd be something only he had, something no one else could see. He gently turned Arthur on his back to get a better look at him. England moved with Gilbert's faint push, looking even more defenseless and driving Prussia nearly over the edge. He smiled, knowing he had the upper hand, and he bent down to begin the 'invasion'. His head lowered and he began with the crook of the neck, kissing it softly and giving him light nips, this seemed to stir Arthur. Prussia stopped, eager to see that look in his eye once more. Arthur's eyes were still closed, yet he seemed distressed. Prussia arched an eyebrow, had he caused that?

"I… nng…" Arthur muttered in his sleep. He turned his head to the other side, exposing his neck to Prussia, but turned his head again restlessly.

He watched him, feeling an odd sense of worry come over him. Here he was, catching Arthur off guard, ready to get him back for all of his nagging, his scolding, and gain the revenge of being one of the members who had disbanded Prussia, and he was worried. He sat up, sitting back on his legs and letting out a breath.

"Oh man, this so isn't awesome…" he muttered.

Gilbert got off the bed though, and stood over England, deciding to shake him awake.

"England… hey, England." He said.

Arthur opened his eyes, staring at nothing for a moment, before he jumped and sat up looking at his surroundings. Prussia crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow.

"It's not enough that you took my country, but you want my bed now to?" he smirked. "Not awesome."

England turned to him, and Prussia waited to be called an idiot and snapped at, but all he found was a wide gaze and masked panic.

"What's the matter, you have a nightmare?"

"I-I… erm… yes, I suppose I did." He seemed distracted by something. He looked about the room, spotting the uniform that had found its place on the floor once more. "I, erm, your uniform, that is, I had…"

Prussia bent down and picked up the uniform and held it out to England.

"You were fixing it, weren't you?" he asked. The other nodded back to him and took it back in his hand, finding the needle within the folds of the cloths.

"I was hoping to be done with it before you got back." He said. He paused, biting his lower lip before he turned back to Prussia, looking up at him. "I wanted to apologies about earlier. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"Well, that's a start." He said, sitting down on the bed. Arthur frowned at him.

"A start?" he asked. "Well what else do you want me to say?"

"How about 'I never should have ignored your awesome advise and I was wrong the entire time'." He smiled. England's eye gave a twitch. He had thought he had been reasonably sorry enough, why was it that Prussia always demanded the world from others?

"Not on your life." He muttered, looking away.

"Oh come on, you owe me."

"I _owe_ you?"

"You're damn right you do." he leaned over, his face going close to Arthur's. The gentlemanly mask almost slipped for a moment, but he regained it with a stiff upper lip and scooted away. "Do you know who I am?"

"What are you on about?"

"I'm Prussia! One of the most terrifying nations in History! I was so awesome that it took the Nazi party and the Allied Nations to bring me down!"

"I'm aware of our history," he was interrupted.

"When you took that away I couldn't survive as East because West was the one everyone recognized as Germany." There wasn't a hint of anger in his voice as he spoke, only what seemed like pride and humor. He inched closer to England, cornering him practically into the wall. "Remember me? Remember the nations I seized, or more importantly, their vital regions? I'm still that same guy, perhaps with a little less backing him than before, but don't forget who I am."

Arthur could see ambition in those red eyes that stared back into his own. He was so close, only a few more inches and there'd be no space in between. He swallowed but maintained his poise.

"Wh-what's your point?"

"My point? I'm awesome!"

Arthur groaned.

"Oh god, it isn't like you don't remind me every chance you get."

"I'm not finished." He placed a hand on England's shoulder, causing the other nation's heart to beat fast. Arthur wasn't sure if it was infatuation or intimidation at that moment. "I just want you to know, for sure, who I was. Remember every terrifying detail, every victory I ever had." He leaned in, whispering into his ear. "And that same power now belongs to you thanks to the stupid mark you have." He gripped Arthur's hand suddenly. "Don't let all of that just go to waste."

And with that he pulled away and sat back up. He smirked when he saw Arthur trying to cover up his blush once more. His brow was furrowed, a usual response, and he was sputtering and trying to find something to say. Thoroughly satisfied with his work, Prussia calmed himself and began heading out of the room, laughing as he went.

"Gilbert, wait."

He couldn't help but smirk as he turned back around. Arthur had gotten off the bed and was standing there, the Prussian uniform in his arm, as if holding it close.

"I don't understand what you mean."

He sighed and faced him fully.

"Just don't forget why you brought me back, brought me here, it's not fair, ya know?"

"I never meant for it to be you, it was an accident that…" he defended, weakly.

"You still won't answer me, just why did you bother at all?"

Arthur looked away from him and to the floor. He struggled to speak, making little noises in an attempt here and there as his eyes continued to scan the floor. He clutched the uniform tighter, closing his eyes and shook his head.

"I didn't… It was…" he felt horribly cornered. "It wasn't because I… I just… it's none of your business."

Prussia frowned at him, then stepped towards him once more. Arthur heard him and looked back up, but stood his ground. He had a stern look in his eyes, determined to let nothing slip.

"Tell me." Gilbert demanded.

"I… it's—"

"Were you scared?"

"I'm never scared."

"You're lying."

"What would you know?" he snapped back. He was gripped by the shoulder.

"There's that look… you can't hide it you know, not from me."

"Shut up." He turned his head away from him. Prussia turned his head back gently by the chin. Arthur held up the mark, but Prussia grabbed it, closing their fingers around it.

"I'm getting close, aren't I?" he asked.

"I don't want to talk about it, just leave me alone!"

"Why?"

"You want to know so badly? Fine!" he exploded and pushed Gilbert away. "I'm tiered of seeing the dead whenever I'm around anybody, I'm tired of being looked at like I'm crazy when something is pushing me, or won't move out of my way! I just want a break from it all! That's it! I just wanted something to keep them away." He readjusted himself, standing a bit taller, frowning at Gilbert. "There, happy?"

He was eyeing England, an eyebrow raised and looking and his hands and his hips. He bit his lower lip and gave a small shrug.

"I guess."

"Good. Now that we've cleared that up—"

"For now," he grinned.

"What?" he exclaimed. "But I told you everything! There's no other reason!"

Gilbert just gave his triumphant laugh and turned to walk out once more. He turned back suddenly and grabbed the pants from the floor and flung them at him.

"That pair has a hole on the bottom left side, will ya do something about that too?"

"Why you—"

"Thanks!" and with that he left the room. England could hear him singing in German as he went, and felt his own eye twitch.

'I've played right into his game… he's never going to leave me alone now.' He sighed and let himself collapse back onto the bed. He stared at the ceiling as he listened to the distant voice, and found himself unable to help but smile as the thought crossed his mind again.

888

Alright, so I had a suggestion from a reader (A-shadow-of-a-doubt) to give subtle hints about their romance and their attraction. While I feel I've kept true to this, I also would like to point out Prussia's total inability for anything subtle. If you're getting a romantic vibe from Prussia's actions on England asleep, then you're right, but only as a display of dominance like he's use to feeling and acting out (he doesn't call himself awesome for just sitting around and waiting, right?). Right, so there is my justification of that scenario. The next is just Prussia being in-your-face, but let's not forget that there is attraction lying underneath his aggressive state, whether he understands that or not. (phew!) There you all are. I hope you enjoyed it!


	8. The Wound and Prussia's Problem

The Wound, and Gilbert's Problem

By Eden Killinger

Early morning brought with it a new cloudy day. Frost had set on the windows of the second floor, leaving naught but a small clearing with which to see the snowed in forest outside. The forest birds began their morning songs to greet the day, and all seemed peaceful in England. Arthur awoke to this morning, unsuspecting of what else it had brought with it.

He opened his eyes, bleary at first, but soon saw that there were a pair staring right back at him. He froze, staring into the faceless eyes, following their stocks up to the gaunt face there were attached to. Fear gripped him, he could hardly muster the breath to scream as it had been caught in his chest. The rest of the ghost was naked and gripping the ceiling from high above him, facing upside down and grinning madly.

"_You can see me?"_ asked the ghoul. Its voice was high and screechy. It's long, limp tongue hung out of its mouth and waggled back and forth, reaching the eye sockets and dripping saliva over its self. Arthur felt a shiver run down his spine as the eyes lifted like two snakes and began inspecting him. He forced himself to calm down, to keep his breathing even and his thoughts focused.

"I can." He said. "How did you get in? Who are you?"

"_Oh well this is interesting."_ It cackled in almost a gurgle. _"People like you are quite a rare find."_

"You are not permitted in this house. I will respectfully ask you to leave before I force you."

The eyes stopped examining him and had joined back together as a pair and looked straight back at him.

"_You have a ripe smell… a good smell to you…"_

"I don't care what I smell like, get out!" he barked back. He lifted his arm, chanting as he did, to summon up the magic to banish the obviously evil spirit. As he raised his arm higher to blast the demon away, a sharp pain suddenly tore through him. He gasped, holding his shoulder as he cringed. The dagger wound throbbed horribly and Arthur felt as though someone were burrowing their fingers through his gash. He felt the demonic presence fall onto his bed. It cackled to its self.

"_Oh my! You smell even more tasty now! Just a bite, just a little bite…"_

Its jaw extended, revealing two rows of sharp teeth like that of a sharks. Arthur slammed his foot into the creatures skull as it has leaned forward. This had kicked him off the bed as well, throwing him on the ground and reopening the wound. He cursed and scrambled to get his footing, but a three fingered hand powerfully clutched his ankle, coming from underneath the bed. The creature pulled at Arthur, dragging him under the bed with him. Arthur scrambled to get out of his grasp, kicking and punching at the hand, determined to get away on his own. The creature managed to grab his other hand with his long sticky tongue.

"_The taste…! So good! Must have more!"_

Arthur's eyes widened, the pain in his shoulder clouded his mind, and panic set in. He turned to the door, reaching out his hand, a scream tore through his throat.

"PRUSSIA!" he yelled.

"_Don't scream, my tasty, come to me…"_

"H-help!"

The door burst open, and Prussia rushed in at once! He saw England and what held him, he was halfway under the bed and still fighting off the ravenous demon. Prussia grabbed him up by the hand and strongly tore him away from the creatures grasp. He held him close and backed away; Arthur shook in his grasp.

"_My tasty… I smell something foul. Come away, tasty, come away with me…!"_

Gilbert held Arthur behind him as the creature slunk out from underneath the bed, eyes poked out first before they retracted back into its skull. It crawled out, remaining on all fours as it edged around them and to the wall. Prussia stared at the demon with disgust.

"What the hell is that _thing!_"

"An evil spirit that's trying to eat me." He pulled his hand away from his shoulder, revealing the blood that coated his fingers. Gilbert looked down and saw it.

"You're hurt!"

"No, I'm fine really, the wound's just reopened from my fall." He turned back to the wall to see that the creature was gone. His eyes widened in fear, knowing full well something like that doesn't give up so easily. "Where did it go?" he looked around his room, trying to sense it. Prussia realized what was wrong and by chance happened to look up. The creature opened its mouth, allowing its tongue to shoot out once more and try to grab up Arthur. Prussia grabbed him out of the way just in time as it wrapped around air. It shot back into its mouth, before trying to catch their throats once more. Prussia caught the tongue with such speed that Arthur could hardly believe it. Prussia snarled and yanked the creature down, causing it to crash into the floor. He slammed his foot straight into its head and hit with a sickening crunch!

"Ha! Is that all you got you little wimp? You weren't even a challenge!"

"_Foul thing! Foul thing on my tongue!" _It screeched. Its clawed hand reached out and began to claw viciously it Gilbert's leg, trying to get away.

"Gross. Hey, how do I kill this thing?"

Arthur gripped his head in his hands and forced himself to concentrate, but with his mind still clouded it became very hard to do so. It felt as though the room were spinning, as if he were experiencing motion sickness.

"Well usually you'd have to vanquish it with some sort of holy weapon, or use magic fire to burn it to its marrow..."

"Well I don't have any of those things, so what do we do about _this_?"

"I… I don't know. If my bloody shoulder didn't hurt I would have taken care of it by now." He grumbled.

Prussia frowned as he looked back at the creature that continued to claw it his body. It cursed at him, spat on his leg and made the most awful cries in an attempt to stun them. Arthur shivered and clutched his head once more, trying to calm the dizziness he felt. Prussia was taking no notice of him, however, and merely looked down at the creature with an icy stare.

"This thing is pissing me off!" he snarled. "The awesome me is getting fed up of a tiny bug like you! You hear me?"

"_Give me my tasty! I want it! I want it!" _He cried out over and over again.The foul creature continued to struggle and lash out as it reached for Arthur. The end of the tongue that hadn't been painfully wrapped around Prussia's strong grip was wiggling side to side, sending flecks of foul smelling spit to pelt his cheeks.

"He's not your goddamn tasty!" he snapped back at the creature. "If you say another word I swear I'll—"

"_Foul thing will release me! Release me!"_ it shrieked in rage. It suddenly bucked Prussia's foot off his head and grabbed his front. It cried out as he powerfully tossed him to the floor. _"I WANT IT!" _and it leapt over to Arthur! Arthur cried out and could only raise his arm up to protect himself! Its mouth was wide open and its teeth ready to sink into England's pale flesh— when suddenly it was jerked back!

Prussia pulled at the tongue, reeling the creature in. It resisted, but Prussia over powered it and finally planted his foot on its boney spine.

"I said, hold-your-tongue!" And with that, he jerked the slimy appendage upward and tore it clean off. Blood shot up and everywhere as the creature struggled to get away from underneath Prussia. It tried to crawl, or claw, but soon its movements became slow and labored. It finally died, drained of blood and with its tongue in Prussia's grasp.

England stared at the corpse, stunned in his horror. His own face and body had been splattered with blood, but nothing compared to Prussia's torso and his face. Prussia grinned victoriously, standing over his opponent. Arthur felt a shudder run down his spine, and he backed away slightly. He had felt something from him right then, something most other nations had sensed when warring with the brutal nation; bloodlust. As soon as Arthur's gaze had been returned, Prussia instantly stopped grinning. He looked down to Arthur and his demeanor changed.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he nodded back to him. "I'm just in a bit of pain." His voice was quiet.

"Oh man, your losing your blood all over again!" he threw the tongue to the floor carelessly and went over to England. "And even after I awesomely went out of my awesome way and cured you."

"You can't cure a wound with a sandwich, dolt." He muttered, and inched away from Prussia. "I'm fine anyway. Clean that mess up and I'll fix my own wound."

"What's wrong?"

"N-nothing."

"Come on, were you scared?"

"I— no." he lied. He was still shaking.

"Arthur, relax. It's over, dead, even more dead than before maybe." He gave him another smile. England looked back at him with worried air, like a frightened child. Gilbert hated that look from Arthur for some reason, he wanted it to go away. He thought for a moment, then finally whipped his face clean of the blood with the remaining white parts of his shirt. He smiled gently and offered out a hand to Arthur. "There, better?" he asked. Arthur looked to his hand, as if wary of it.

"I suppose…" he grabbed Gilbert's hand and allowed himself to be helped to his feet. He turned and began walking to the bathroom, his thoughts reeling as he calmed down from the shock of an intruder. The motion sickness he experienced was dying down at last.

"Hey, aren't you forgetting something?"

"Hm?" England turned around, though he wanted nothing more than to sit down. The jittery feeling he had wouldn't go away, and it his shoulder pain was only now steadying. Prussia threw a hand to the corps.

"How about '_thank you your awesomeness for saving my butt—again_'."

"Oh I…" he felt regret for snapping at him the way he did. "I… yes, thank you. If it hadn't been for you I might have… well I might have saved myself but not without more injury."

Prussia stared at him with a flat expression. England coughed to fill the awkward silence before continuing.

"Alright, thank you Gilbert. If not for you I would have been… in a lot of trouble."

Prussia finally smirked and gave him a nod.

"Better." He walked over to England then. "What happened with your shoulder anyway? Shouldn't it be healed by now?" Before Arthur could protest, Gilbert had reached over and pulled his pajama shirt down. "Gah! Who bandaged you, your blind grandmother?"

"I did it myself, thank you." He snapped, yet did nothing to push him away.

"Well it sucks." He proceeded to turn Arthur around and shove him into the bathroom. "I guess the awesome me will just have to do it the right way."

"What the— what are you doing, what about my floor? That blood will stain the wood if it sits there too long!"

"Yea, yea, enough about what's dead. First things first, the living."

Arthur couldn't muster the mental strength to fight him on the subject anymore and allowed himself to be bandaged. He took off his shirt, frowning at the blood stains from himself and the evil demon, and stood in front of the mirror. As Prussia set to work on cutting through the knotted mess that was suppose to be the bandage tape, England let his mind wander in a daze. His eye drifted to his bandaged hand in that moment. He could feel that he was healed already, it had been a very minor cut after all, it might have even healed yesterday without him noticing. He took off the bandaged to find no scarring left behind.

"It looks bad." said Gilbert.

"It's completely healed, you…" he realized what he meant. "What do you mean 'bad'?"  
"It hasn't healed in the least." He gently examined the wound, placing his hands on England's back as he did so. Something in Arthur's stomach began to flutter in that instant. He felt his cheeks flush red once more, and could see them in the reflection of his bathroom mirror.

'Not now!' he looked for anything to cover his face with. He grabbed at a hand towel next to the sink and covered his face. Gilbert seemed not to notice and continued to rest his palms on his back.

"I mean, not even in the least. It should be healed now, if not nothing more than a scab. The only thing that can cause serious harm is if your land had been attacked by another nation…"

England hadn't heard a word he had spoken, he could only feel Gilbert's soft, warm hands on his back. The fluttery feeling gave way to a completely different one as soon as one of the former nation's hand glided gently over to his other shoulder. He seemed to relax into his touch, he usual rigid posture went slack, letting his guard down for a moment.

"… and the hamster married the mole rat and they had a wonderful time…" Gilbert stared at Arthur flatly, knowing full well he was being ignored. He shook Arthur, stirring him out of his thoughts. "Oi! Are you listening to my awesome words of truth?" he demanded. Arthur's eyes widened and he lifted his face out of his hand towel and stared back at Gilbert.

"Gil! I was— asleep?" He covered, quickly.

"Did you hear me? This might be serious."

"Oh, posh," he waved him off. "It'll be better in no time. It's just healing slowly."

"We don't heal slowly from cuts and scrapes."

"I don't really constitute a stabbing as a cut or scrape."

"You know what I mean."

"I'm fine, really. It's nothing, you'll see. You'll have worried for nothing in the next few days. This is only because I accidentally keep reopening it up."

Gilbert heaved a sigh but said nothing as he began to bandage the wound back up.

"Hey, England," Gilbert started again, "I thought you said you were never randomly attacked by ghosts or other things?"

"I'm not… usually, that is."

"Well that makes it twice in a week! What are you counting by when you say not often, seconds?"

"Of course not! If you must know, I keep a barrier around this home to ensure that demons and other aggressive spirits don't come wandering by."

"Then what happened today?" his tone almost stern.

Arthur went silent as he thought how to answer. The only explanations that came to Arthur's mind were too implausible to seem real. The evil demon had been something that Arthur had encountered before, different versions of it, but marginally the same as the rest. It wasn't his inability to cast out the creature so much as it was how it got in that worried him.

"Erm… I don't know. Probably just a fluke."

"I didn't think magic could slip up."

"It's no science." He smiled when he heard Gilbert give a chuckle behind him. England relaxed into his touch once more.

Gilbert finished up, making the ties nice and neat. Arthur shrugged his bloody shirt back on, almost sorry to no longer feel his touch. He grew slightly red in the cheeks and frowned at his new behavior. He narrowed his eyes.

'Poppycock.' He thought, sternly. 'Quit this now, or, well, you know the outcome.' He sniffed and readjusted himself. He turned back to Prussia with the same surly look, clearing his throat to address the silence.

"Thank you again for the patch work. I realize it is not your responsibility to take care of me in such a manner—"

"No problem. You did such a lousy job at it I had to make it awesome again."

"Yes well, there's the little matter of the rotting evil demon on my wooden floor."

"Ah, no problem." He waved him off. England watched him leave the bathroom, suddenly suspicious of his compliance. He watched him walk back into the bed room, then proceeded to the door, passing the corpse without a second glance.

"Hey! What about this bloody corpse?"

"No, no, no, I wouldn't want to overstep my bound to care for you. Like you said, it's not my responsibility. I'm just a guardian after all."

"Oh really, of all the—"

"Yes, yes I know, I'm too kind for my own good. Don't have too much fun cleaning up the muck." He grinned and walked away."

"I can make you clean it, you know!" he threatened, holding up his hand. He smirked when Gilbert froze, halfway through the hallway, then grumbled and turned back around.

"Slave driver…" he muttered.

"That's better." He folded his arms. "Now just to show that I'm not all bad, I'll clean the bed sheets and the walls, all you have to do is dispose of the corpse and wash the floor."

"And how do I do that?"

England only raised an eyebrow at him. Prussia frowned, narrowing his eyes.

"You're trying to say I've murdered before, aren't you?"

"What do you think?"

"I think I want to first know where you keep your bleach and gasoline, then where you'd permit me to burn the body."

"I thought so…" he muttered.

888

Nearly half the day had gone by when finally the unpleasant mess had been dealt with. The ashes of the evil demon were scattered into England's forest, but not before being blessed so that the compounds may safely return to his earth. The magic had returned to him by that time, it once more coursed through his veins and empowered him. The soft green glow that had swirled from his finger tips swirled around the ashes, casting them in the same glow. Prussia had listened to England's incantation, feeling the strange power flow off of him as he did.

"…now what pain and sorrow that's held you trapped, release and find the happiness you left untapped." He finished, and the ashes turned from black to grey, then blew away in a sudden breeze. They watched the entire pile disappear into the darkness, not a speck left behind. Gilbert turned to Arthur, the mysterious look in the man's eyes had returned, yet there was something stronger within him. Prussia could feel this power radiate off of England.

"What's it like?" asked Prussia. Arthur turned his gaze to him, green eyes strong even from underneath the nostalgic expression. Prussia felt as if England could see right through him.

England didn't have to ask what he meant before turning back to the forest and thinking quietly.

"Lonely… but beautiful." He murmured quietly.

"Lonely?"

Arthur nodded in return.

Gilbert scrambled in his mind for something to say, yet his mind was blank with how to reply. He reached out a hand to place it on the other and comfort him in some way, but before he could make contact, Arthur had turned and began heading to the house. With one last look to the darkened forest, Prussia turned around and began to follow Arthur to the back door. When he caught up with him, he knew that the rare moment with Arthur had past, his defenses were up again as he hummed his own anthem.

"Oh good, it's only ten past eleven." said England, his watch out. "We can shower and be just in time for tea." He stuffed it back into his pocket.

They got back inside and closed the door.

"It is most certainly beyond the time to shower." England established. "I smell of blood and sweat from working all morning long."

"I could go for not smelling like rot," nodded Prussia. "I should be at my awesomest everyday, don'tcya know?"

"Yes, well aside from that," he grinned back, though with a raised eyebrow, "You can take your, should I say _my_, clothes off and place them in the hamper. The guest bathroom is on the second floor and next to your room."

"Fine." He shrugged.

"Right then, excuse me." He turned and began heading up the stairs.

Once under the warm shower water, Arthur felt the gentleman façade melt away. He stared dully at the tile in his bathroom as a barrage of emotions began to hit him all at once. Love, fear, worry, giddiness; he didn't understand what to do with any of them. The blood that washed off of him collected at his feet before spilling into the drain, he watched it go, numbly. Without thinking he placed a hand on his shoulder as he thought of the wound. He didn't want to admit it, but Prussia had been right about its progress. His thoughts trailed off to Gilbert's touch then. The confusion set in, and he grabbed his head tirelessly.

'Good lord, what's the matter with you old boy? Chin up, don't let yourself just be a fool all over again.' Yet it had filled him with great relief to have Gilbert standing at his bedroom door when he did not but a night ago, it had made him almost giddy to be saved and held as someone stood between him and the nightmare that threatened to kill him. He closed his eyes, and suddenly the rage set upon him as he remembered Alfred's hurt and worried face. 'Ignorant git! Your head is and always has been too far up your own arse to see the truth.' But he couldn't help but imagine Alfred's smile, his laugh, the feel of his jacket when he drew him into a hug. There was no denying his love for Alfred, it had been established in his mind ever since he was a boy. The love had grown from brother to equal, then it had been shattered by his declaration of independence. What little love that there was left in England's heart had been reserved for the magic that had never abandoned him, and the young Nation that he wished to be with once more. 'I had better stop this,' he warned himself, 'I still have a whole day to get on with, and I can't let that Prussian have any sort of advantage over me.' His mind latched onto the memory of the night before when the two of them had been so close to one another. He had wished so desperately to grab him and hold him tight, or even to lean in and— 'No, no, no! Stop it. You want no such thing! You're fine on your own!'

"I am! I'm fine." He whispered to himself. He let out a breath and finally turned off the water to his shower.

He had quickly gotten dressed and rushed down the stairs to start the tea. Distracting his mind was top priority now. As he descended the stairs, he saw the white hair of Gilbert just poking up from behind the couch's back. The television had been turned on and was turned to a local news station.

"I'm starting the tea now," he announced, "Do you think you could try a cup?"

"Yea, I think I can eat, I just might not _need_ it like I use to."

"Oh, well is there anything you're partial to?"

"Tea's not that awesome, but if you've got black I guess that's cool. None of that stuffy Earl Gray, though."

England huffed in response and turned to go into the kitchen. Preparations weren't hard and didn't keep him busy for long, but working to beat the clock was certainly enough motivation to keep him concentrated. He heard Gilbert walk into the kitchen and sit down at the table just then. Arthur's back was turned to him he had began heating up the crumpets in the oven.

"What's that smell?" asked Prussia. "It smells… bland… so very, very bland…"

"Oh shut up, you tosser, my cooking is just fine."

"I know but… are you cooking us paper or something?"

"You can't even smell something that's bland, _bland_ isn't a smell."

"Can I say dull?"

"No."

"Boring?"

"No!"

"How about,"

Arthur turned around.

"Now listen here you little….!" His jaw dropped and his face turned a bright shade of red. There, sitting at the table, was a naked Gilbert, his head resting lightly on his fist and giving Arthur a challenging smirk. At first he thought this was a dream, that he had slipped in the tub and hit his head and his reality was a concussion educed fantasy. He gaped at him soundlessly for only a few moments more, before he turned around. "Where are your clothes?" he demanded.

"Well I still have my uniform, and I guess I could have worn my underwear too but I've been in that for three days so…"

"What the hell are you doing in my kitchen, naked!" he asked again. His heart began to race as he heard Gilbert scoot his chair, then walk over to him.

"Duh. I don't have any more cloths of my own, and you told me not to borrow any more of yours."

"What about your—"

"Uniform? I told you, I can't wear that all the time."

"Why the bloody hell not?"

"Come on, I deserve my own wardrobe! Someone as awesome as me cannot be seen in stuffy England's cloths all the time! Its ether my own rags or nothing at all!"

"What?" flustered, England had made the mistake of turning around, only to be face to face with Gilbert's bare upper half and handsome smile that screamed 'I win'. His heart beat against his chest, his pulse accelerated, he could feel the blood rush to his head.

"I... I-I… I… oh!" he turned back around. "Fine! Fine! Whatever, I'll get you your own damn bloody cloths if you like."

Prussia leaned into his ear as he spoke once more.

"My choice, of course. No matter what the expense." He teased, knowing he was driving Arthur crazy with embarrassment.

"Yes, fine whatever! Go upstairs and throw on a pair of pants right this instant… and wear a shirt too!"

"I don't know…" his voice teasing, "I kinda like being in the buff like this."

"Its winter!" he exclaimed. "Go put on some friggin' pants!"

"Naw, I'm good. My body can't feel the cold." He watched as Arthur turned back, his hand extended and pointed at him.

"Pants, now."

"Damn…" and he let his legs do the walking, since they seemed to be doing it on their own anyway. England sighed and turned back around. A burning smell reached his nose and he realized with horror what had happened. "Oh bloody hell!" he pulled out the tray of burning crumpets, watching as black smoke rolled off of them. "Oh well… a little burnt, but it'll still taste alright, right?"

Prussia was once more dressed in England's punk cloths. He had on blue jeans that had sharpie marks all over them with the Anarchist symbol. He had a thick belt on that was studded with chains that connected all around. The shirt was a bright red with Sex Pistols band logo on the front. He had a stunning black jacket on with studs on the shoulders.

"Good lord, you look like some nightmare from the 80's. In fact, how do you keep finding the cloths I've stashed away?"

"When you look this good, the awesomeness just guides you."

"That hardly made any sense at all..." he grumbled.

"You burned you bread-things…"

"N-no I didn't. They're suppose to look this way. The burnt top gives them a… unique flavor."

"I guess my awesome iron stomach can handle it."

"Why you ungrateful little…" he growled, but Prussia only laughed.

"Relax, Arthur, I'll eat your food. After all you made it for me, right? To complain after getting you to agree to buy me new cloths would be so not awesome." He smiled, a nice gentle smile. England paused a moment, allowing the feeling of someone's appreciation for his cooking to set in. He relaxed once more, watching Prussia reach over and carelessly take a bite.

"Thank you." He mumbled.

888

_Ahhhhhh_, I'm feeling a lot better about how I'm writing these. So much more confidence. Action chapter will give way to a day out with Prussia! I don't think Arthur knows what he's getting himself into, or will it be Prussia who hadn't expected the new world he's walked into?

-Eden Killinger


	9. The Outting

The Outting

By Eden Killinger

Arthur and Gilbert went walking down the snowy streets of London city together. Arthur hugged the trench coat he wore closer to him, noticing every now and again the puffs of white that wafted from his mouth. Gilbert seemed fine in the cold (as he had stated earlier that day) and walked along with only a leather jacket to provide him extra warmth. They were coming from the home to do some afternoon shopping for a new wardrobe that Gilbert had been promised by Arthur. The consequence of not bending to the prideful former nations request was a display of his body around the house, and Arthur didn't have the energy or the want to force cloths onto him at every turn.

Arthur gave a sigh and kept his gaze to the ground as he walked along. Gilbert seemed quite content with the silence; he was distracted by the winter scene around him. Arthur couldn't fathom why, after all Prussia had conquered many snowy regions in the past, including Russia. How could an average snowy city hold his attention? Arthur didn't bother to ask, his mind was still concerned with the events of earlier that day. Exactly how the demon had entered his home was still a mystery to him, and he didn't like mysteries like that. He felt the regret of not staying home and working on the problem, after all, his home was his sanctuary. The example of his feelings to the outside world was presented to him in the next moment.

"_My baby... my baby…!"_ cried the transparent woman. "_He fell into the river… my baby!"_ She stumbled past them, sobbing into her hands as she went. Gilbert watched her pass by, shocked by the display. He turned back to Arthur, expecting to see worry or concern, but instead he looked irritated. He gave a mutter before he turned again and continued walking.

"Should we help her?" he asked, almost hesitant.

"There's nothing to help." shrugged Arthur, "it's all just a memory on repeat by now."

Gilbert felt a shiver down his spine from Arthur's indifference. He turned his attention to the Thames river, which was nearly frozen at that time of year. Gilbert looked out, expecting to see a quiet and peaceful scene, but found he would be gravely mistaken. Drowned victims stared back up at Gilbert soundlessly; their arms out stretched to him like children asking to be picked up. Their skin, though transparent, was a sickly corpse blue and green, frightened eyes peeked out from wet hair that clung to their body. They mouthed to him for help, their arms turned with his direction. There were so many of them that stretched on endlessly in the Thames, each with cloths from different eras in history. He grimaced at the sight, their dead eyes stared into him with such desperation that Gilbert had to turn his head before succumbing to a bleeding heart.

"They look so unawesom… so sad and pathetic like that. Shouldn't you help them out of there or something?" he asked the slightly shorter nation.

Arthur shook his head solemnly.

"I wouldn't dare go down there. They're not asking for help, they're looking for someone to join them in death."

"What?"

"They'd drag any poor sap down who goes to try and help them… I found that out the hard way."

Gilbert stared at him, partly shocked and partly in horror over the thought of being dragged down.

"How'd you get away?" he asked. Arthur sniffed and ran a hand though his blond locks.

"Please, I'm a powerful sorcerer; I fought my way out." he paused then before turning to look up to Gilbert. "Sense then I have kept a strict policy on the dead and helping them out. I'd rather focus on the living than on the dead. I intend to keep that policy."

"But the day before with the little ghost, you looked pretty worried to me." he looked down at him over his nose.

"That was entirely different." He sniffed, holding his head up higher. "That little brat wouldn't leave me alone. If I didn't do something about her I would have lost my sanity! To have that little thing follow me around and destroy my credibility in the World Conference was the last straw. I did it to get her out of my hair."

"The World Conference?"

"Yes, she cause me to interrupt Germany while he had been in the middle conducting the meeting." He said bitterly, the memory of that day was not something he'd look back on fondly anytime soon.

Gilbert snorted, breaking the tense mood.

"Oh-ho, I bet he was mad."

"He was. Needless to say that is why the meeting has been rescheduled to Friday. That was the last straw. I had to get her out of my hair before she drove me completely insane."

"You still looked pretty concerned about her to me…"

"I wasn't. How can one be concerned for something that's dead, anyhow?"

Gilbert chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully, blocking the twinge of pain he felt from Arthur's words. He turned his gaze ahead as he thought to himself. They were silent for a few more minutes before Gilbert turned his attention to him again.

"So… about that day."

"What about it?" he snapped, clearly annoyed with the whole subject.

"Where did I fit in with all of that thinking you did?"

England stopped walking right then for some reason. Prussia looked back, folding his arms and giving him a questioning look. It looked to him as if Arthur was thinking very hard as to what to say next, his defenses up to their max and not letting anything slip.

Gilbert smiled right then, eyeing up Arthur.

"I mean it seemed like you had everything all planned out, right?"

"Are you trying to insinuate something?"

"It just begs the question…" his tone, though playful, had an underlying seriousness to it that Arthur did not wish to address further.

Arthur was waiting for Gilbert to continue, but it never came. He did what he could to drop the matter out of his thoughts, but knew Gilbert would not.

The two of them walked in silence until they broke off from the Thames and began heading farther into the city streets. They entered the shopping district, were there were rows and rows of clothing and accessory shops. It was then that Gilbert began searching around the small boutiques, looking for men's cloths. He continued to look around as Arthur following quietly behind him, until his eyes glanced over a nice pair of denim jeans. He walked over and lifted them off the show rack that stood outside the door and began inspecting them.

"They've already got holes worn into them…." he frowned.

"That's the style these days." said England, flatly.

"Eh, I like to wear pants out on my own. It Gives them that awesome history. This just looks tough without doing anything. Not awesome." He tossed them back onto the rack. "Still, this store might have something worthy of my awesome self inside of it." He walked in, England following close behind him. While Gilbert perused the shop, collecting shirts here and there, England leaned up against the wall, keeping his gaze to the floor. After a few minutes he lifted his head up to look around and spotted Prussia. Gilbert had seven shirts in his hand and was looking over another one.

'At least he's making progress. Perhaps this won't take as long as I thought it would.' he watched, satisfied, as Prussia walked over to the counter. He walked over as well, taking out his wallet and readying for the crippling price.

"Ring these up, and charge it to him." Prussia thumbed back to England, who grimaced.

"Right then, that'll be 730 pounds, sir." said the salesman.

England paled and nearly dropped his wallet. He turned to Gilbert. "You want seven hundred and thirty pounds worth of shirts! Do you know the state my economy is in right now?"

"Think of this as tourism." He smiled. "That boosts economy well enough to justify this."

"It's my own money!"

"I guess I'll just have to get use to walking around in the buff…"

"Oh fine! Have it your way you…." He grumbled. He grudgingly paid the fee, and the two of them walked out.

"Of all the intolerable people, you are the worst!" He grumbled.

"No way, I thought that position was taken by lard-o." he chuckled at the new nick-name for the American. Arthur frowned and gave a huff.

"For once you may have a point." He said, folding his arms. Gilbert looked over to him, encouraged by his words he decided to continue.

"One day he's going to be so fat off of hamburgers that he won't be able to fit through his own kitchen door."

"With his economy being the way it is, he'll be in the poor house before he could afford to do that, that idiot." He smirked back.

"He's obnoxious with his 'Hero' complex! He couldn't _save_ a dime if his life depended on it."

"He'd buy something garishly huge with it, or the newest video game from Japan."

"Just a child! Completely pathetic and not awesome, unlike yours truly." He grinned down at Arthur. The other gave a short laugh and looked back ahead of himself.

"Oh, don't you go strutting around as if you don't have your own faults."

"Huh? Faults? Me? Never."

"Oh?"

"Name one thing."

"Alright, how about losing Prussia?"

"Through no fault of my own, I was ganged up on." He defended. He turned and walked into another boutique with the thought of new pants on the mind. Arthur followed him, standing behind him as Gilbert picked out pants on a rack.

"Alright, how about the fact that you're loud and rude?"

"You mean confident and truthful, don't you?" he smiled back at him. "It's apart of my awesome charm."

"Oh, yes, some charm." He scoffed. "Alright then, what about your—"

"Arthur, Arthur, Arthur," he shook his head and turned back around to him. "You're obviously just blind to how awesome I really am. I can't blame you, my charisma is so awesome that it can be blinding."

"Why you conceded, rude, vain little…" he turned away from him and huffed. Gilbert turned back and had picked back up on perusing as well. Arthur spoke up once more, causing Gilbert to smile to himself. "Of all the outrageous things that I've ever heard…."

"You like it." He said.

"I most certainly do not!"

"Oh you do, you just don't know it yet."

The blush that had once more found its way across England's face sent him into a frustrated fueled tizzy, shouting in a very fast and flustered pace. Gilbert only laughed at him, causing the tint of red to turn to a shade as he fumed angrily. He was suddenly drawn close by Gilbert, and he looked up to him surprised.

"Hey, Arthur, relax. I was only joking." He winked, then let go and turned back around. This left Arthur to stare at the back of his head for a few moments, before turning away and muttering darkly to himself. 'Damn I'm good.' He smiled to himself.

Arthur and Gilbert left the shop a few minuets later, with a very saddened looking Arthur as he stuffed his card back into his wallet. He let out a breath and stuffed it back into his back pocket, muttering darkly to himself as he did so. He winced as he turned his arms the wrong way and felt the pain in his shoulder. He instinctively put a hand to the open wound and took in a sharp breath of air. 'Damn this stupid thing. It's healing as if I were a mere human, perhaps Prussia was right in worrying over it… no. No it'll be fine. I can manage.'

"Something wrong?" asked Gilbert. Arthur shook his head and took his hand off of his shoulder.

"No, just twisted my arm is all."

Gilbert turned back around and continued looking around for another place to shop for the remaining items on his list. Arthur would be glad when the whole experience was done and over with, he just wanted to go home. As he had thought this, his eyes happened to glance over an alleyway just across the street. As he had passed it he saw a small, shivering child staring back at him. He stopped suddenly just then, looking to the poor, hungry child sitting against the wall. Without a word to Gilbert, he crossed the street and headed to where the child stood, leaving him behind.

"Hello there," he greeted, walking closer. She gasped and stepped back from him, shaking. She was wearing hardly anything but a tattered shirt and coat, and an equally ragged skirt. "Oh, no, no, there's no need to be afraid of me. I'm a friend." He smiled. It pained his heart to see his living citizens in such misery, especially one so young. He reached into his coat and pulled out the last remaining coins that he had on him. "Here I'll show you, you can have this to go and buy something warm." He offered. She stepped back away from him, but held out her hand for the money. Arthur realized he had to step forward just to place the money in her hand. He was close, but she stepped back again. "Oh come now, don't tell me you're still afraid of me."

She gave a small nod back to him.

"I promise that I won't do you any harm." He smiled to her. She smiled back to him, assuring him that he could step forward. He did so, placing the money in her hand. She caught his wrist in her small hand right then, looking into his eyes with that same kind smile as before. He smiled back to her, relived to see her courage. "See, I'm a friend."

"_You're lunch."_

Arthur's eyes widened with horror as he realized what the girl really was. He tried to pull away, but she had and iron grip and was dragging him further into the darkness. The horrid feeling of being on a boat in a storm rushed though him for the second time since that morning. She laughed quietly, chuckling darkly to herself.

"_You smell good... good like rot… good like lunch!"_

He became disoriented with dizziness, making him very ill at once. From the darkness Arthur could now see something connecting to the back of the girl's neck that led to the creature behind the child. It was a giant blob with a wide mouth, bearing row upon row of sharp teeth! It and the child were apart of the same body, and it had just dragged in its next meal! Arthur fought against the girl, managing a step or two back.

"Let me go! I'm warning you, I'm very powerful!"

Arthur held out his free hand to try and produce some sort of magic to protect himself, but the ill feeling kept him from uttering even the slightest word; he was helpless. He could barely think, overcome with the sickness that suddenly blinded him. Darkness took him, he could hear a very distant and familiar laugh ring in his head.

'_Come… come….'_

Then suddenly he felt himself being violently jerked backwards. There were screams of furry that soon began to fade away from Arthur's ears. He opened his eyes, hardly aware that he had closed them at all, and looked to what held him with alarm. His panic died down when he saw Gilbert's red eyes stare back down at him.

"You idiot! What were you thinking?" he scolded. Arthur shook his head quickly, putting a hand to it as he tried to get his wits about him. He shivered, realizing how terribly cold he was just then. Gilbert held him closer, but Arthur pushed away as he tried to gain his wits. He knew he was being held by Gilbert, but he could scarcely say what else was happening around him. He felt as though he wanted to vomit. "Oi," Gilbert shook him slightly, causing Arthur to groan in response. "Arthur, are you alright?"

"My head… I feel sick." he cringed.

"What were you doing? Do you realize you nearly walked into that thing's mouth?"

"What, walking? I was grabbed!"

"Yea, then you just began letting yourself walk closer to it. I called to you but you didn't even turn, you just kept walking to the gaping hole of teeth and death!"

Arthur looked around himself to see that they had gathered attention from a few people who were looking at them as they passed. He closed his eyes as the motion sickness finally started dying down. It had been the same as earlier that morning. He knew they were sitting, leaned against a wall, probably a good deal away from whatever it had been that had almost eaten him. He felt himself being shaken again and opened his eyes, grateful that the sickness had finally passed.

"Arthur, say something."

Gilbert almost sounded worried, thought Arthur.

"I'm fine, Gil, just shook up."

"That demon must have put you under some kind of spell. Jeeze, don't just walk away like that."

"I'm not a child, I'll do as I please." He snapped back, irritated. He saw the almost hurt look behind Gilbert's stern expression.

"I'm just saying, what if I didn't get there in time?"

Arthur was at a loss for words, yet he felt a burse in his pride. He turned away from him, unable to speak.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, I am. It's as you said, the beast just had me under some sort of spell." Yet in the back of his mind he knew that to be wrong. The throbbing in his shoulder was enough for Arthur to suspect what had really caused the illness. He was helped up by Gilbert who looked down at him, his hand still holding Arthur's. England pulled away from his grasp gently, leaving Prussia's hand to somehow still feel the warmth of his touch and almost long for it once more.

"Gil…" he looked to him, but then turned his head away and to the ground. "Th… thank you."

Gilbert was scarcely aware of the burning at his own cheeks, and merely gave him a smile back and let out a breath.

"Yea, yea, no big." He shrugged, looking away. England had thanked him, and he began to wonder if the other really was sick.

"Well, I aspect that we should continue onward then, correct?"

"You serious?" asked Prussia. 'After that it's just back to shopping?"

Arthur gave a shrug in return.

"No point in letting an averted crisis spoil our main goal, right? Besides, I only want to experience this financial pain once this week." He said, adjusting his coat. He cleared his throat and looked about himself. "Where were you headed before I became distracted?"

Gilbert eyed him for a moment, unsure, but then picked up the shopping bags and began walking with Arthur once more. Arthur tried to ease the mood, further affirming that he was alright. He began acting as he usually would, as a proper English gentleman, while making small talk about the other countries and how they were fairing.

An hour of walking through shops had passed by them. As they walked down the street, Gilbert suddenly heard the gurgle of something. He turned back to Arthur, who was red with embarrassment from the noice.

"I… I suppose I'm hungry." He admitted. Prussia arched an eyebrow at him.

"Well, I guess my great self can spare a few minuets to wait for your unawesome body to refuel."

"Oh never mind your long winded speeches." He walked past Gilbert, grabbing him as he did. "Come along."

Gilbert was thrown off for only a second before he regained his footing and was next to Arthur once more. The other had let go of him, and Gilbert began to miss his touch once more. He considered reaching out and grabbing England's arm as they walked. He looked to his hand, wanting to grab at that as well. With hands full of bags though that seemed unlikely to happen. He began thinking how to reach his arms around Arthur's, but missed his chance the moment Arthur lead him to a flight of stairs. Gilbert walked behind him quietly, staring at his back as the want to reach out to him burned inside him once more. He frowned as he mulled over the thought in his head. Why shouldn't he just reach out? The world was practically his anyway, leaving him free to do as he pleased… or, at least it had seemed like that so long ago. How nice it would have been, if back then, he had claimed England when he had the chance. He found himself lost in a daydream of capturing England up, whisking him away from his land to stay at his house.

Arthur stopped at the top step, Gilbert nearly running into him when he did. They entered the wide room, noting the bar area and looking to the tables that were set everywhere else. There were a few people within the second floor pub already. A hand full of them were friends all having sat down with their shopping bags and other items next to them, others were couples on a date, and even a few business men out on lunch.

"What luck," said Arthur, gaining Gilbert's attention. "There's a free table over there next to the window. Let's go."

They sat down at the table, it over looked the busy street where people ducked in and out of shops, children played in the snow until their mother's dragged them away, and couples walked and in hand together, one even sharing a scarf. Gilbert's eyes followed the couple with the single scarf, rubbing their cold noses together and laughing into the icy wind. He didn't notice when the waitress walked over with the menus. Arthur had to nudge Gilbert with his to get him to pay attention.

"Huh?" he looked about.

"Your menu." He offered.

"I'm not hungry."

"Oh go ahead and try. Think of it as my way of saying thanks for what happened earlier."

"You mean when I so awesomely saved you, again?" he smirked. Arthur sniffed at him and merely looked to his menu without another word.

Gilbert looked through the menu, seeing very bland and boring items on the list. He let out a breath in frustration. He had read the third item several times because he had been distracted by Arthur's hand resting on the table in front of him as he read.

'Damn it… this isn't awesome, even in the least! I'm not suppose to be weak like this. If I want to grab his hand then damn it I will!' he frowned. He set his menu aside and reached out for Arthur's hand. Before he could grab it though, Arthur unconsciously pulled it back and set it on his own chin in thought. He notice Gilbert reaching out just then.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"No, nothing, I was just…" his eyes looked around for any kind of and excuse. "This!" he reached over and grabbed the ketchup from the condiments holder. "Yup, just looking at this."

"May I ask why?"

"Just seeing if it was awesome enough for me to eat."

"Oh, so you've decided what you want then?"

"Yea, sure…" his glanced back to his menu to cover. Arthur went back to perusing his own. Gilbert couldn't help but watch him once more, looking for something he could casually reach over and touch. Of course it wouldn't be casual, Arthur would notice and pull away, possibly even get mad or walk away. He frowned at the thought and stared back at his menu. 'Damn, everything in me is telling me to reach out to him. There's no blood in this body, but I feel a surge of something course through me, driving me. Why aren't I listening to it and just grabbing him!' He gripped the plastic menu tightly out of frustration of being unable to do much else. It wasn't until the waitress came along that Prussia released his grip.

"Good after noon, are we ready to order?" she asked. Her tone, though peppy, sounded as rehearsed as any waitress.

"Oh, yes thanks." said Arthur, "To start off I would like a cup of tea, Earl Grey, with cream. I would like a ham sandwich and the soup." He handed her his menu when she finished marking down his order.

"And you, sir?" she turned to Gilbert.

Gilbert realized then that he hadn't looked at anything.

"I'm not hungry." he covered.

"I thought you said you'd order something."

"I changed my mind." He could scarcely think of much else including the effort to eat.

"Oh go on and order something, you." Arthur insisted, pointing to him with his marked hand.

"Eggs with toast and a turkey sandwich." The words felt as though they had been pulled from his mouth rather than have freely spoken. The waitress gave a nod back to him and took his menu.

"Did you want anything to drink?"

"Water's fine…" he trailed off, not noticing when she had left. Arthur arched an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to look back. When he did, he too raised a brow in return. "What?"

"You're acting strangely."

"No I'm not. I'm acting just as awesome as I always do."

"Be honest now, what's bothering you? Just a minute ago you were running around, saying 'buy this' and 'buy that', all happy about sending me into bankruptcy. What's come over you?"

Prussia's eyes were cast to England's hand that once more rested on the table as he leaned forward. He looked back to him, suddenly wishing to catch Arthur with that beautiful gaze on his face. He gave a rakish grin before he spoke.

"Hey, Arthur, don't you think it's time to tell me why you summoned a guardian? I mean the truth this time."

England stared at him just then, surprised by how forward Gilbert had been. He tried to start with his usual response, 'none of your business', but faltered and looked as though he were desperately trying to come up with something. Oh his Arthur was fun when he was like this, thought Gilbert. He loved his new game he had found in Arthur. He was determined to smash that wall that separated Arthur from everyone else, that kept him always at a distance and just out of reach of true feelings. He wanted to see it crumble at his feet. Then when it had finally been broken down he would reach in and snatch Arthur up. Nothing would keep him from claiming England. He was sure of it.

"I've told you once already, and that's all you're getting from me."

"Yea, you did, but the explanation only confuses me even more."

Arthur shook his head and looked out the window once more, but suddenly felt Prussia's hand on his. He turned back, alarmed.

"You can't keep me in the dark forever, I'll find out soon enough." he smiled.

"Sometimes I can't figure out whether you're good or evil." He retorted, pulling his hand away. "And there's nothing to discuss."

"So you say, but the awesome me knows when you're lying." He rested his head on his fist, smirking at him.

Arthur felt a bittersweet twinge pull at his heart as he gave a sarcastic laugh.

'You're almost as blind as the rest of them.' he thought and looked out the window once more. The dull pain returned to his shoulder in that moment, but went away in the next. He didn't realize it, but his eyes shown with that look that drove Prussia close to the edge. Still, Gilbert realized frustrated, that that gaze still hadn't been aimed at him.

"And something else worries me."

"You are acting strangely suddenly…"

"Why are all of these demons suddenly attacking you?"

"Please, not in public." he shushed him quickly. Gilbert pressed on.

"I am going to the next World Conference with you."

"You—what? Absolutely not!"

"You'll need me there when a demon comes after you."

"That won't happen."

"It will, I know it. Who else can save you but me? No one."

"I will not allow it! You shouldn't be seen by the others. It's bad enough that Alfred has found out.

What would your brother think if he saw you?"

"I have to talk to West anyway, ask him a few questions myself. I wouldn't mind running into him actually."

It was then that Arthur realized he too found his curiosity peaked by the German's strange and suspicious behavior about Prussia's passing. Yet he felt the consequences outweighed the mystery.

"No, and that's final."

"Great, I'll be ready to leave when you are."

"I just said no."

"And I'm ignoring you, nifty isn't it?"

Arthur cursed quietly and turned away from him.

"You just love to see me mad, don't you?"

"I'd like to see you safe." Gilbert muttered without thought.

Arthur turned back to Gilbert, eyes wide with surprise. Gilbert also seemed shocked by what he had said, and was looking back at Arthur with the same eyes.

"I-I mean…" it was finally Prussia's turn to be on the defense.  
"Yes, Gilbert, what do you mean?" Arthur grinned, wickedly. Oh he was going to enjoy this.

"What I mean is…" he frowned back at Arthur. Then he crossed his arms and gave a confident grin, like he had after any victory in battle. "well you're so obviously weak and helpless that watching you get pummeled by demons is a pathetic sight." He covered. Arthur stared at him flatly.

'Well that was a short lived victory…' he sighed and leaned back against the booth seat. He wasn't sure what he felt more at that moment, defeated, or disappointed.

They went silent, neither one saying a word until their food arrived. The waitress set their food down and walked away without hardly a word to either of than other than 'enjoy'. They had eaten quickly. Prussia regretted the fact that he had taste buds, but pushed on. Once finished, Arthur swiftly paid the bill and they went walking down the stairs once more.

They exited the warmth of the pub and were back out in the cold bitter wind. Arthur hugged his heavy coat tighter to him and gave a shiver.

"The cold never get any better over the years, I'm always glad when spring comes."

"All I need now," said Prussia, going down his mental list. "Is…" he smiled and leaned into Arthur, making him uncomfortable. "Underwear."

"Oh go on then," he shoved him, "what do I care about your britches?"

Gilbert laughed at the redness that came across Arthur's face at that moment.

They continued down the street together, Arthur's head held high as he lead the way to where he knew to look for that particular item. It wasn't long before they had turned down another street and were on their way to the common box stores. They walked down the gray street together, starting a light conversation about the economic state of the world. Though it was hard for Arthur to not go into depth about the nations who was even worse off than everyone else, he did manage to change the subject to China. For Prussia, it was hard to imagine such economic distress, yet when England had mentioned America he had had a hard time surprising his grin. He looked for something to distract him from the thought of poor and hungry America crawling to his door step to beg for money, and how he'd laugh in his face and slam the door on him.

It was suddenly that Arthur felt the same horrid sickness flood though him. His heart raced in fear as his world began to spin.

'Please not again.' He thought. He had to stop walking, feeling to dizzy to stand up right. Gilbert noticed and without thinking had reached out and was holding him steady.

"Arthur? Woah, Arthur?" he asked, trying to keep their balance.

"I… I don't feel myself suddenly." He admitted, "I… I think I want to go home."

'_You're not safe in your home anymore._'

"What?" he gasped.

"I didn't' say anything," said Gilbert, looking to Arthur with worry. Arthur suddenly felt very faint and his legs gave out on him. "Arthur!" he picked him up in his arms.

Arthur gave a moan, reaching a hand up to his injured shoulder, but suddenly passed out.

"Arthur…!" Gilbert tried to shake him awake, but England was still and quiet. He had a pained look on his face. Gilbert cursed to himself, his mind raced at what to do. He wasn't powerless, he thought, he could fix this. Holding him in his arms as he ran down the darkening streets of London determined to find help.

888

Not that it's really important, but my brother would like me to point out to people that he has absolutely nothing to do with this story. So yea, it's all mine! Nyaa! You only wish you could write this well, D!

Aside from that… holy cow this was a long chapter, wasn't it? Jeebus! I hope it was good though. Anyway, I'm in collage now. There's lots of studying and reading, so posts may not be as frequent as they use to be. Don't' worry though, I love this story and won't give it up!

Eden K.


	10. Into The Myth

Into The Myth

By Eden Killinger

Prussia had rushed back to England's home and put him in his bed at once. He knew of nothing else he could do but let Arthur sleep and wake on his own, so he sat at his bedside quietly in wait. He could not keep himself still for long though, and he soon began pacing about. He took in the look of Arthur's room, noting the old feel of the place, everything made of wood and looking like antiques from the 1700's and up. There was hardly a piece of modern technology except for the lights and the cellular phone on his dresser. No matter how he tried to distract himself with what was around him, however, he couldn't help but look back to Arthur expectantly, waiting for him to open his eyes and start ordering him around like normal. Yet the minuets passed and still Arthur remained quiet.

'Damn it.' Prussia thought, agitated. 'I don't know what to do… I mean, the great me is stumped! Now that's something. I should know what to do, right? Aren't I his guardian… whatever that means...' He let out a breath and began pacing around his room once more. 'Just what the heck is the point of being raised from the dead if I don't get any awesome powers to help him with? What do I have really, besides the awesome bragging rights of cheating death? Some guardian I am…' he frowned at his last thought, almost confused by his negativity.

Arthur gave a soft moan, and Gilbert snapped his attention down at him. Arthur's forehead was beginning to form beads of sweat, his cheeks pink with heat. He had a fever, and was apparently suffering a nightmare from the way he was turning and furrowing his brow. He moaned again, softly, calling out.

"Limey…?" Gilbert wandered closer to him. He studied his face, noting that Arthur was still asleep, but seemed to be thinking— or dreaming—very hard. "Arthur." He reached down and shook him gently. He waited, but nothing happened. "Oi, Arthur. Wake up." He waited. "Come on, limey, you'll have plenty of time to sleep when you're dead. Trust me, I know." He jostled him. Arthur went still again but his face looked as though he were in pain. Gilbert couldn't stop himself from worrying when he found that Arthur wasn't waking up. He tried jostling him once more, he called his name and even yelled out the best insults he knew, but nothing worked.

'This is serious. Why did this have to be serious? Damn it, I told you to idiot! Moron! That's what you get for ignoring the great me and my awesome words of truth.' All the anger he tried to rally in him only crumbled away to nothing but worry as he looked down at him.

Arthur had a high fever, that much Prussia knew from touch. If he didn't do something fast, he worried, then soon it might not matter is Arthur needed a guardian. He did the only medical thing he knew from watching television and listening to the radio; he went to get a cold wet towel. He scrambled around Arthur's bathroom and searched though his things until finally coming up with what he needed.

He placed the cold wet rag, folded, against Arthur's forehead. He let out a worried breath and sat on the edge of Arthur's bed. He stared at the floor for a few moments before allowing his thoughts to quietly slip through his lips.

"I told you, didn't I? Told you that stupid cut would be trouble."

Silence

"Why don't you listen? You're always fighting… even back when I was alive you were so stubborn." He gave a frown and shifted, doing everything he could to keep from looking back at helpless looking Arthur. "I always thought it was because you were a coward, afraid of one thing or another… but I guess I kind of thought it was cool sometimes. Especially when you became a privateer…" he smiled, remembering how England's eyes were so fierce and bright back then. He had been so filled with courage, daring, and wasn't afraid to let his charisma guide his words and take hold of anyone listening. Gilbert gave a laugh again as he thought of England's ferocity in battle. That had been a time when they were the most agreeable with one another, fighting to take the world as theirs. It was an impossible dream of two nations, though it almost happened.

"I haven't thought about that in years… centuries." he nodded quietly to himself. "I was so cool back then. So were you. We could have taken over the world if we had only tried harder… it could have been ours!" he threw his hands up in exclamation. His smile faded from his face and he frowned once more and stood up. "What the hell am I doing reminiscing? You're not on your death bed, and I haven't given up yet!" he yelled. Silence met him, but he refused to be disheartened. "Damn straight! I'm gonna find a way to make you better. Somehow… somehow I'll do it."

'But how?' asked the little voice in the back of his head. He crossed his arms and began to pace for the umpteenth time. 'How do I wake him up and make him better? This would be a hell of a lot easier if there was some kind of 'instant-guardian-make-you-better' kind of thing.' He frowned and rubbed his face in frustration. Then, suddenly, like a light bulb that's finally clicked on, Gilbert realized with a start: 'I do have a power. I can see the dead!— And that's not all!'

He turned to the window, looking out to the nighttime scene. His eyes stared into the forest, where he could just barely make out a few shadows of unfamiliar creatures weave in and out of the darkness before disappearing. "That's it! Those things in that forest there! I'll find that green moth-bug-thing, Softpetal, and get her to help you! It's perfect! It's awesome! I'm a genius!" he exclaimed. With that he turned and rushed out of the hose and into the snow covered landscape.

Prussia didn't think twice as he burst through the forests edge, taking for granite that he had entered into a sacred realm that Arthur held so dear. He ran a few feet into the forest, stopping to look around him for any sign of a mythical beast.

"Hello in here!" he called out. "Hey, can anybody hear me?" he took steps forward, gazing up at his surroundings. He felt in such a rush that when he called out again he scarcely noticed that he was speaking in his native tongue. "_Hallo, ist jemand hier? _Komm heraus, wo immer du bist!*"

He paused, before hearing soft murmurs from the bushes at his side. He crept up on the brush, then seized it quickly and parted it. "Ah-ha!"

Prussia looked down at the little fairies all cowering in his shadow. They clung to each other before giving out a scream! They zipped past him, flying up and away from his grasp.

"Come back here you bugs!" he growled, grabbing at them. They stopped, hovering out of reach and looked back down at him.

"Oh! Horrid thing, you are!" huffed a purple fairy, whose dress was made of violets. "Go on, shoo! Shoo!"

"Don't shoo the awesome me! I demand help!"

"Humph!"

He looked out the little fairies until he spotted little, green Softpetal floating in the arms of another fairy.

"Softpetal!" he exclaimed. "Listen, it's about Arthur, he's hurt and I can't do anything to help him."

"Oh…" she looked saddened, but remained silent. The violet fairy 'tsk'ed at Gilbert.

"A pity. He's a good lad. There's nothing we can do though."

"Oh come on! Surely you fairy-things could think of something."

"You demand help from us after such rudeness?" huffed the fairy. The others behind her glared down at him, one going so far as to blow a raspberry his way. "Apologies at once!"

Prussia frowned at them but sighed and let out a frustrated breath.

"Alright. The great me demands that you accept his apology."

"You haven't made one yet."

"_Nicht gut...**_" he grumbled, flustered. He stood tall though, pushing through the frustration and panic he felt wrench at him. It wasn't easy for him to be asking for help, it was even more of a challenge to apologies to fairies. "I'm… s… I'm so…" he frowned up at them, pointing and accusing finger. "What does it matter? It's my England who need help, not me!"

"Prideful thing, claiming him as your own…" the violet fairy frowned. The other fairies behind him nodded in agreement.

"Listen to me! He's hurt! The cut on his back won't heal and it's getting worse. He fell unconscious and now I can't wake him up."

Well what do you expect us to do about it?" asked a little pink fairy in a high squeaky voice. "We wouldn't be caught dead going into that smelly place."

"What?" Prussia exclaimed. "But Arthur— England is your home, you're country! He's your friend, isn't he?"

"The smell is horrid! We refuse to go in. Now go away, there's nothing we can do to help." sniffed the violet fairy.

Prussia growled up at her, then kicked off the ground with his hand outstretched, determined to force one back to the home. They shrieked and flew away, deeper into the forest. He landed back on his feet and stared into the darkness, angrily.

"Come back here!" he called, and raced after them. The fairies soon disappeared in a matter of seconds, too far for Prussia to detect. However, he did hear soft giggles coming from his right. He turned to see little fairy-like creatures sitting on top of flowers and cackling uncontrollably.

They were three while pixies. Their hair frizzed and stuck out every which way, their wings smaller and their lights darker than a fairies'. Their black eyes looked to Prussia as they laughed at his misfortune.

"Oh-ho! He grabs and tries to catch a fairy for the one who smells of rot!" sung one of the pixies. "So goes England, so goes the little man who runs for him!" they all cackled and laughed once more. Prussia stared at them, stunned by their taunts. He was very confused by what had been happening; weren't these things suppose to be Arthur's friends? He recovered from his silence and growled at them.

"I'll show you who smells!" and he dashed after them, picking up a twig and swinging it at them. The hovered, just out of his reach.

"Ahahaha!" they all laughed out at him.

"Look, the little dead-ling cannot hit! He cannot even guard Arthur! He's chasing pixies in the forest instead—hahahaha!" one laughed, grabbing its sides in hysteria as it flew.

"Over here, '_guardian_'." The second blew a raspberry at him. Prussia swung but missed.

"He'll never cure him if he's this weak against little pixies." teased the third one. They laughed again and flew away.

"Wait! Do you know of a way to help him?" he demanded, angrily.

"Maybe we do." said one.

"Maybe we don't." said the second.

"You'll have to catch us first!" called the third, and they all few away. Gilbert raced after them as fast as he could. He leapt over every log and boulder, and ducked under every branch and brush they lead his through. He shouted to them, a mix of German and English, demanding that they help him.

They continued through the forest however, singing and laughing all the while. Their little voices were haunting, it echoed all around him. They continued to lead him, until they finally stopped at the mouth of a cave. Prussia rushed forward stopping a little ways from them, wary of their sudden action, or lack there of.

"Okay," said one,

"We decided," said the second,

"That we'll help you." smiled the third.

"You will?" asked Prussia, unconvinced. They all gave a nod in agreement.

"We realized that since you're dead, you'd follow us forever if we didn't." said the dingy yellow pixy.

"We can lead the living to their doom, but we cannot outrun the sprinting dead." shrugged the grime-covered green one.

"Therefore, we have agreed to help you out, as one fellow of magic to another." smiled the red one.

"We've realized you're greatness, and are willing to help, guardian." They said.

Prussia smiled, victoriously.

"Well I knew something around here would see how awesome I am and come to their senses. Alright," he nodded, "let's go back and cure Arthur."

"Oh we can't just go to him," said the red pixy, "Not without the cure."

"What cure?"

"Follow us." they replied. Prussia saw they were pointing at the hillside cave. He looked from them, back to the cave, then back to them, confused and wary. They merely turned around and fluttered their way into the cave, calling for him as they did. Not one to be left behind, Prussia hurried after them.

They slowed down soon after realizing Gilbert was having a difficult time keeping his balance in the icy cave. All the same they rushed him along, rudely. They teased him, pushed him on his face, or tweaked his nose and ears to get him to move faster. He growled at them all, fighting the strong urge to swat them away while grumbling curse words in German.

The three little pixies soon hovered over a few feet ahead of him, their dim lights the only guide Gilbert could see with. He stepped closer to them, but with a terrible swooping feeling in his gut he realized there was no ground beneath his next step. It was too late when he had realized it, and with a surprised yell he tumbled all the way down to the bottom of the pit. The fall would have killed him, were he not already dead. He grabbed his head, the impact wan enough to push his false body to its limit, thus reacting in pain. A high tolerance to pain didn't mean that he was devoid of it. He shot an angry glare up to the pixies above him, who were whooping and laughing down at him.

"You damned little bugs!" Prussia yelled. "You said you would help me! You said you'd help me find the cure for Arthur!"

"We never said we'd find Arthur's cure." Spat the yellow pixy.

"We said we'd help you, we just didn't say with what." The green one gave a wicked grin.

"How does this help me?" he demanded. "I'm trapped in a cave pit with a splitting headache and no closer to helping Arthur!"

"You're welcome!" they sang, then flew away, laughing all the while. With the pixies went the light, and shrouded Gilbert in darkness.

"Oi! Come back here! Bugs! Cowards! Traitors!" he called out, but only his echoes came back to him.

Prussia sat in the dark, silent from his stunned disbelief. He had been tricked. Him, Prussia, had been tricked by three little bugs he could easily squish with his thumb. He could hardly believe it, but there he was, alone in a cave, sitting in the dark with no help for Arthur.

"I… I can't believe it…" he murmured. "I can't… I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!" he yelled, rising to his feet. "Damn those little bugs! Damn these ghosts! Damn this stupid magic! Damn you Arthur!" he kicked and stomped. "This is all your fault! There's no way someone as awesome as me would have ever been tricked if I hadn't been worried for you—YOU WEAK LIMEY BRITT!" he roared out. Yet all the same, he could see England's face in his mind, the life slowly draining from him as he called out for Prussia. No matter how hard he called in his weakened state, no matter how much he pleaded for help as he cried in pain, Prussia wouldn't come. Arthur would think he had been abandoned, that Gilbert was a coward, or worse, a dirty traitor. 'No! I'm not a traitor, and I'm not finished yet! The awesome me can still do it!' He rose back to his feet and began feeling around in the darkness, grabbing for a wall that he could start climbing out of. He felt the cold, damp surface of the cave and began trying to find a way to crawl out from the pit. He found a round something to put his hand on and begin crawling out, but when he pulled himself up his hand slipped off. He stumbled back, but grabbed at the wall all the same and tried again. He managed two steps before he fell and lost his footing on the icy floor. He hit the back of his head once more, wincing as the sting of pain wracked his skull. 'Can't give up… not gonna…!' he sat up once more, holding his head. He tried again and again, over and over with the same result. "Not giving up! Not giving up!" he chanted out in great frustration. His words echoed throughout the caves, but it was Arthur's calls that consumed his imagination and made his heart race.

Hours passed and soon Prussia had grown quiet, his movements mechanical as he tried in vain to free himself. His hands were cut up and burning with cold. His head throbbed and his back felt strained. Yet he groped at the wall once more for yet another fruitless try. He pulled himself up, managing with shaky and strained arms to claw his way what he assumed to be a good distance up. His foot and hand slipped however, and Prussia only cursed loudly as he fell on his back once more. He impacted with the ground on his back, knocking the wind out of him for the hundredth or so time. He groaned and turned on his side. His head throbbed horribly, he was sure it would split open if he were to try again.

Prussia lay in the darkness, soundlessly as his red eyes stared into the vast nothingness ahead of him. He tried to pick himself up one more time, but felt the agonizing realization of defeat take hold of him, and he leaned back down on the ground, feeling helpless. He tried to lift himself once more, but his body made the choice for him, his arms gave out and he fell back down. He was only glad that it was pitch black so that nobody could see the rare sight of a pitiful and weakened Prussia. He let a bitter laugh escape his lips quietly at the thought. He lay in silence then, staring into the nothingness that stared back at him.

'Arthur… I couldn't do it…' he closed his eyes tight, surprised to find to find tears forming at his eyes. 'You'll know that I was as useless guardian…'he cursed and rolled onto his back in an attempt to get up once more. Yet again though, his body kept him from doing what he wanted. 'Damn it… he'll hate me if I don't… get up!' after another moment though, he sunk back to the ground limply. He stared up at the place he was sure he had seen the pixies and had last heard their taunting laugh. He bared his teeth in frustrated anger. 'Why won't anybody help him?' he turned his head around in the darkness, searching desperately for some hint of light or clue as to how to get out. He refused to call for help any longer, the creatures that Arthur loved so dearly had all but abandoned him and his guardian.

"_What's it like?" asked Prussia. Arthur turned his gaze to him, green eyes strong even from underneath the nostalgic expression. Prussia felt as if England could see right through him._

"_Lonely… but beautiful." He murmured quietly._

Prussia remembered the scene. He had wondered what on earth Arthur could have meant by that, before he found how fickle the magic folk were. England had hardly been close to anyone in his life, always determined to push them away by any means. Prussia, being a lonely Nation himself, had done somewhat the same thing, he realized quietly. Instead of pushing everyone away before getting hurt however, he was forcing their allegiance to him. He had once thought that if he conquered the whole world, if he made everyone his ally, then he wouldn't be so alone anymore. An empire of people he could trust, and him at the top with all their praise. He smiled to himself, remembering the maddening dream of such power and his longing for their love. He gave another laugh, hearty but just as bitter as his last. 'Now look at me, tricked by Pixies and laying on my ass while the only Nation who cares even a little is sick without help.' He laughed harder, feeling the pain hollow out his chest, but pushed through it. 'How awesome of me, isn't it?' he choked on something akin to a sob, but forced himself to laugh again. He pushed through the fear, the helplessness, the sadness of his Arthur with his laughter. He felt tears roll down his cheeks and his chest ace as he forced it. Finally he could bare it no longer, and reached his hands up to his eyes and cried out. "Gott verdammt noch mal!***" and he cried to himself.

Nothing but pitch blackness stared him in the face. "I tried Arthur, I really did." He said softly, "I tried harder for you than I've tried for anybody in the world! Why did I fail…?"

"_Did you mean Arthur Kirkland?"_ came a hollow male voice. Out of surprise Gilbert sat up and hurriedly began drying his eyes. He looked out and his eyes widened in realization as he saw a faint bluish light glow from behind him. He turned around and saw an old man sitting on a rock, leaned against a stalagmite and looking at him with an amused smile. "_I haven't heard that name in ages…"_

"Will you help him?" he quickly scrambled to his feet, forgetting his pain and becoming embarrassed by his tears. He looked down at the ghost, sternly. "He's been hurt by a poltergeist and his wound isn't healing. Nobody is doing anything! He's back at his home, sick. He has a fever, and there's nothing I can do and… and…" he straightened up in that moment, embarrassed by his desperate pleas.

"_Oh my…"_

"And he needs help!"

"_Yes, I see."_ He nodded back.

"I demand that you… erm, will you help him?"

"_No, there is nothing I can do, but I can help you._"

Prussia frowned at him, anger flaring up once again.

"Don't bother, I've heard that one already." He turned and began walking with shaky legs to the farthest wall of the pit that he could see.

"_Your visit to this cave must be the doing of the pixies, I see."_ he nodded and began stroking his long beard in thought. Prussia turned back to him, eyeing him.

"Yea, they tricked me into thinking they would help Arthur."

"_How noble of you."_

"You mean stupid, don't you? The awesome me can take it." He huffed. "Still, I can't get out of here, and there's no one else who knows Arthur is sick. I left him back at the house thinking I could… that somehow someone might help him."

"_Oh I see. Yes that was rather rash of you. Might I ask who you are to Sir Arthur Kirkland?"_

"I'm his awesome gaur… I mean, his guardian." He frowned, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall. "Some guardian though, huh?"

"_Indeed. To bravely go out and risk the tricks and trials of a forest such as this is no easy task."_

"Erm… I actually didn't think it would be this hard. I've faced a lot worse than tricky little pests and dead guys in caves— no offence."

"_You did it anyway, and even when you were discouraged you pressed on."_ The ghost rose up, the smile still apparent on his face as he walked over to Prussia. "_We all fall down sometimes. It's no shame that we do. It's what makes us human."_

"I'm not ashamed, and I'm not exactly human either." He grumbled. "I just want to get out of here! I just want to help my Arthur! Why doesn't anybody get that through their heads?"

"_Your Arthur?"_

"Yes, my Arthur! Who else can help him? Who else can see the things he does? Nobody!"

"_Why does that make him yours_?"

"Because I'll be the one—the only one— who will be his guardian! I am Prussia, and anyone under my care is deservedly mine! No one else will hurt him," he felt the strange mysterious pulse rise inside of him again. A memory of Arthur's pleading look averted from him pulled at his heart, his desire rose, strengthening him. "Never again."

There was a silence. Gilbert looked up to the old man, surprised to see a kind smile traced across his lips.

"_I understand, I do. So I will help you. I can lead you out of the caves, if you wish."_

"I already told you I'm not falling for that again."

"_Then I sincerely hope you rise above it." _The old ghost turned and began walking away. Gilbert through he would soon hit a wall and disappear within it, but to his surprise the old ghost had begun to walk down a tunnel. Gilbert scrambled to his feet and raced after the ghost, catching up with him and following him quietly. _"Come to join me for a stroll, have you?"_

"This better be the way out, old man, or I'm seriously going to…" he began grumbling in German once more.

They wandered in and out of the tunnels, passing by stalagmites and having to crawl through cramped spaces just to get to an even bigger opening than before. The old man wandered through the cave, as if it were just a midsummer stroll through a pleasant park, passing through every obstacle with ease, but having the patience to wait for Gilbert.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Gilbert could finally see a light up ahead. He hesitated for a moment, feeling suddenly grim.

"A light at the end of the tunnel… I didn't pass on again, did I?"

"_I dare say you did not."_ chuckled the ghost. "_Go on, Prussia, go seek help for England. I'm sure you'll succeed this time."_

"Thanks, old man. Hey, what was your name again?"

"Merlin." He smiled at him. Prussia frowned but gave a shrug and turned back to the light.

"Sounds like some kind of fish, but if that's your name then I guess it's alright… hey, hello?" he turned about, looking every which way he could but the old man had gone, vanished like the ghost he was. Gilbert frowned, muttering to himself about magic once more, but continued onward on his own.

He broke through the darkness and wandered into the crisp early morning air. The full moon shown down on him, lighting up the snow and making the world seem brighter. With a new resolve and the will to protect Arthur strengthened, Prussia went through the forest, once more boldly calling out to everyone and anyone for help. He passed by in a thicker part of the brush, calling out in a mix of German and English once more.

"Oh! It's back! The guardian!" gasped a tiny pixy voice.

"He got out! How?" whispered the yellow pixy.

"The dead will never stop chasing us now! We're cursed." sobbed the green pixy. Gilbert's eyes widened and he turned to the branch where the three little bugs sat on a branch, head level with him. He narrowed his eyes at them, then gave them a wicked smile.

"Hallo kleine bugs" he grinned, reaching for a branch with a spider's web strung across its branches. "es wird Zeit für mich, euch zu helfen…****" he chuckled darkly.

Pixie shrieks sounded as Prussia laughed madly and triumphantly, chasing after them. He swung the branch that they had been sitting on, swatting them all the while as they tried to fly away.

"We're sorry!" shrieked the red one.

"We'll never do it again!" sobbed the green.

"Stop trying to catch us!" cried the yellow one.

"I'm helping you!" he cackled. "Aren't I awesome? Say it! Say I'm awesome!"

"You're awesome!" they cried, but still they fled, with Prussia chasing them.

They ran so far and so fast, that soon Prussia forgot to look where he was running. His foot was suddenly caught in a root! Prussia fell head over heels, straight into a chilly puddle of mud and snow. The pixies zipped away quickly, leaving him behind.

"Come back here you little bugs! Come back here and tell me the truth! Give me the cure you promised for England!" Prussia stood up once more, growling in frustration. "You… all of you!" he yelled out into the darkness. "YOU'RE ALL COWARDS! You good for nothing, useless relics of the past! No wonder no one believes in you anymore! You're all completely useless!"

He stomped around, angrily. "You'll see! You'll all be sorry you didn't help me, or _my_ Arthur! If anything happens to him because you were all cowards I'll burn this forest! You hear me? Burn it to the ground!"

"I wouldn't go around threatening if I were you boy."

Gilbert turned around, looking to where the stern voice had come from. Suddenly a large stone hit him square in the chest, knocking him to his feet. While he felt very little pain, the impact had stunned him. He raised his head to see what exactly had dared to throw something at him, but his head was forced down by the bare, gnarled foot of someone. He felt hot smoke blown into his face, and gave a cough as the creature spoke once more.

"Now, what be all this about Arthur?"

888

_1 Come out come out wherever you are_

_2 Little, no good…_

_3 God damn it._

_4 Hello Bugs, time for me to help you_

Oh my goodness was this ever an interesting chapter to write. I really wanted to get into the mythology of England, or more like immerse Prussia into it. I didn't just want to generalize it and skip to all the romantic parts, because I wanted his character to understand England's world. Besides, it's more Prussia, and who can complain if it's more Prussia? So this was originally going to be 13 pages long, and I thought 'Holy cow that's a lot for one post!' so I'll leave it at this cliff hanger for now—Haha! I'm evil I know. A few things I'd like feedback on specifically, because I'm unsure of it.

What was your guys' opinion of Gilbert speaking German? Did you think this chapter was an unnecessary tangent? Did Prussia still seem like Prussia?

Eden k


	11. Posionous Pride

Poisonous Pride

By Eden Killinger

Arthur awoke suddenly with his eyes wide with fear. He stared upwards, his breathing quick and panicked. He looked around himself quickly to find he was alone in his own bedroom. His chest was bare, but his pants and even his socks were still on. The faint smell of herbs wafted by his nose, and he traced it back to the wound. They had been stuffed underneath the clean change of bandaged that wrapped his bare shoulder.

'What on earth…? Who did this?' England knew the medicinal value of the plants, yet his confusion arose from how they had gotten there. He looked over to his window to see the grey winter sky above. The sky was hardly any indication of the time, as it was either afternoon, early morning, or a very dark mid day.

Still unsettled, Arthur bowed his head and held his arms to him. He tried to remember how he had gotten into his bed, what he had done before somehow falling asleep? He traced his memory back to being with Prussia, walking around in London.

'That's right, I was walking about with him… we had just eaten lunch….' it was then that it all came back to him. He had passed out in London and had fallen into his dreams almost instantly.

Arthur shuddered as he remembered what it was he awoke from. His dream was a nightmare.

In his nightmare he had reverted back to being a child like before. He had been alone and trekking around in the endless bog for what felt like hours. He'd spot the shadows of people he knew, the other nations, in the far distance. Their bodies would be shrouded by the thick fog, making just barely a silhouette for little England to follow. He'd call out for them, telling them to wait up, that he was right there, but they would disappear in the next moment.

He wasn't completely alone in the darkness, however. A soft voice would ring out in the emptiness, pitying him, tempting him to travel to the darker areas of his dream. He was afraid of the voice though, he was afraid of the truth it spoke about him, afraid of the comfort it offered, but most of all he was afraid that somehow it already had him. He could feel whatever it was watching him, following him, reaching out as the fog to caress his face as if he were its pet. No matter how far he ran, it felt as though he couldn't pull away from it. He'd cry out to the shadows and demand help, plead for it, even going so far as to call out their names, but he'd stay lost all the same.

Arthur held his head in his hand, fighting the fear he felt settle in his heart. The loneliness he felt in the dream followed him into the world, perhaps it had always been there and Arthur never allowed it to hit him so hard. He shut his eyes, letting out a shuddered breath and concentrating on calming himself down.

"A good strong heart still beats within your chest I see." said an old, gravely voice.

Arthur heard the voice, but kept his eyes shut. He was almost in disbelief as to what he had heard, and gave a very soft laugh to himself that was more like a whisper.

'I haven't heard that voice… in a century or two…' Arthur slowly, and sadly turned his head to see an old Gnome woman sitting on his windowsill, smoking a long horn pipe. Arthur studied her, wondering if he were still asleep. Her stringy wheat colored hair poked out from underneath her cap. Her nose was like a pickle had been stuck on her face by accident, with warts scattered across it. She wore an old peasant dress with an apron, and a satchel at her hip filled with herbs and tobacco for her pipe.

"Good thing ta see." she took in a long drag and then let the smoke flow out of her mouth slowly. "But tis a shame to see you in such a state all the same."

"Nana Muckbone…" he went silent for a moment, wondering if he were still dreaming. "How did you know… why are you here?"

"I should know when my own adopted youngling has found himself in danger." She smiled, her old face creasing everywhere. As she turned her attention back to her pipe though, her face fell once again. "Twas the white-haired one who called me here."

"Gilbert… how?" he asked.

"He ran into the forest, causing much of a rukus, begging for help and making a bleedin' fool of himself." She gave a sniff. "He was in quite a state when he stumbled upon my stump."

Arthur then remembered Nana Muckbones' home. He hadn't seen it since he was just starting out as a nation, before a kingdom had even been established.

Her home was underground; a gnarled tree stump served as the roof with a single window was made to look out. When he was a child he could have gone in and out of her home with ease, but those days were long past.

"If I recall, so was I when you found me..." murmured Arthur.

Nostalgia took the both of them in that moment. Arthur gave a small smile to the creature that had served as something akin to a grandmother for half a century.

"Small, cold, and so very pink. Not at all a healthy pale color like any respectable Gnome." she nodded. "Aye, those were the days… But this fellow was a terrible mess over your state. He was tryin' to catch pixies with his bare hands like a hungry Goblin gone mad."

"Why on earth would he do that?" asked Arthur, startled by the thought. Nana Muckbone shrugged again as she took another long drag and let it out.

"Madness, maybe. He was demanding help from the tricksters, help for you. I heard his noise and came marching up to break his bones for wakin' me up. The lad stood up to me though, demanding I provide some kind of help for ya. If it were anybody else I might have cursed him for where he stood, but as it was I felt a tad generous at your name and came to visit. You're in a right state yer self."

Arthur was quiet when she finished her tale. He looked to the bed, stunned over Prussia's actions. While crass and bold, he had fought for him. Had he really been that worried when Arthur had passed out? He couldn't stop the smile that crept up on his face at that moment.

"I wouldn't be makin' such a face if I were you." she said, "Tis misfortune that brings me here, not a family visit."

"I'm fine, Nana, really. I just overexerted myself walking yesterday and—ouch!"

The old Gnome had thrown a little pebble at his head. Her gnarled and boney hands held a few more up at the ready.

"There you go bein' a stubborn ass again. I taught you better than to have such a thick head and ignore magic when it looks you in the face."

"I-I know." He huffed. She threw another pebble, causing another tiny lump. He gripped his head in pain and winced. "Cut that out!"

"You're in over your head this time, caterpillar-brow."

Arthur frowned at her, unconvinced. He turned away from her and let out a breath. The old hag hadn't changed, he thought.

"What do you mean? My wound is just healing slowly that's all. I realize that it's merely a case of forgetting to cleanse myself after the exercision I had performed, but it couldn't have done any— Gah!" another sharp pebble had hit him.

"Don't blind yourself, fool." she growled. "You know damn well there's somethin' suspicious going on with your self, but you're just being troublesome."

"Alright! So I'm having difficulty keeping conscious and am attacked by demons often. This is nothing I can't handle! You know my magic is the best in the world, above all else I've been able to—"

"You stink of something foul, mutton-breath."

Arthur looked at her, understandably confused. He wasn't sure what the Gnome said was a compliment or an insult. She eyed him up with a frown before covering her nose with her wrinkled old hand.

"Somethin' not to a Gnome's likin'. An' if I can smell it, so can the foul ones." she referred to the demons. "You've been attacked before you say? Done nothing to protect yourself you say? Bleedin' caterpillar brow…"

"The demons who attacked me… they said I smelled as well. But I can't smell anything, and I doubt Gilbert can either. He's so rude he would have said something." he felt the panic take him once more, his heart beat with worry. "My wound, it hasn't healed at all, even though it should be gone by now. Nana, do you think… could it be I'm cursed and haven't realized it until now?"

"You've been lyin' to yer self an' you know it." she sniffed, disgusted with his feign of ignorance. "You'd have figured out the problem by yourself and been healed already if'n it weren't fer something keepin' you so sick. What's keeping ya in the dark boy?"

Arthur didn't answer her, his green eyes were filled with uncertainty as he looked back into hers. He had denied the possibility so heavily, and having someone in his home had distracted him, for visits were often short and rare. Having Prussia in the home was like trying to tame a whirlwind, but he had found the company to be so enjoyable.

"Bleedin' fool… I know that look. Turn your head, I hate to see it."

He did so, casting his eyes to his bed sheets instead, ashamed. The gnome woman started up again, lecturing him like she use to decades ago.

"The curse is a serious one. Have you not noticed that the fairies don't dare come to visit you anymore? Even Softpetal is afraid of bein' tainted by the stink in this house; you've been cast with somethin' fierce, boy, somethin' that's messing with your purity."

"I… I haven't been able to cast anything lately… actually." he whispered. He looked back up to the old Gnome afraid. "This isn't like any curse I've heard of!"

"It isn't something small, that much is certain."

"Good lord!" he grabbed his head in worry. "What could it be…?" he felt a shiver go down his spine as he watched the smoke rise from her pipe. He was reminded of the fog. "Nana! In my dreams I… I feel watched. I feel as though there's someone right there, looking at me wherever I go."

"Don't speak of such nonsense. Something like that is impossible." she growled. "For someone like you, at least."

"I know, but it feels like I'm… I mean whenever I try to fight back a demon I suddenly become…" he covered his mouth, allowing the pieces to fall into place in his mind. "Good lord…"

"Something like that, 'tis wicked powerful boy. You let it get into yer blood and turn it foul. No amount of purifyin' could 'ave done ya any good." she muttered. They sat in silence as the truth sunk in. Arthur held his arms once more, feeling horribly violated and frightened all at once. It was then he heard Nana Muckbone shift and put her pipe away. "Twas somethin' fierce indeed, boy…" she muttered to herself.

"But, I noticed as I began treatin' the wound, you have a mark on yer hand. A mark I think that 'as somethin' ta do with your guest."

"Yes well, Gilbert is a guardian I summoned, before I was hurt." he murmured softly.

"Ah. Well if you summoned him then that must men he's another one like you, right?"

"He is… he was Prussia before he was forced into being East Germany. Something must have happened to him, and he… he died..." He gently held his marked hand.

"Well he's some guardian. Goin' and letting such a thing happen."

"It wasn't his fault. I was the one who let my guard down… he did save me."

"There you go with that look again. I don't like it one bit."

Arthur gave a tiered sigh.

"What are you talking about?"

"Never mind. Lie down now an' go back to sleep. You be needin' it if you want to fight off the infection a bit longer."

"Honestly I feel as though I've been sleep for long enough." He threw the covers off of him and turned to swing his legs off the bed. "Besides, Gilbert will want to know if I'm alright… I think."

"No, no, you stay in bed. It's probably best that I go an' have a word with that man anyhow."

"You? Best?"

"Aye," she eyed him. "Why the smart mouth?"

"Nothing it's just… well now Nana, it's nothing against you, but you see Gilbert is… well… dreadfully ignorant." He finished flatly. "Having a Gnome explain something he's meant to take serious may prove to be counterproductive."

"Oh he'll listen." She nodded, before slipping off of the window sill. "That so-called guardian will listen or face a great consequence."

"Oh come now, you're not going to do anything will you?"

"Not I, no… but you know as well as I the consequences one suffers when ignoring the magic in front of them."

Arthur looked to Nana Muckbone with understanding. He lay back in bed and pulled the covers over him, watching the Gnome walked out of the room. He was uncomfortable with the thought of being alone in his room again, but scolded himself for being frightened and willed himself to go back to sleep.

Down stairs, Gilbert was leaned against the living room wall, his eyes on the stair case. He had heard Arthur's door click shut from upstairs and had expected him to show up. He felt a twinge of disappointment when he lay eyes on the old Gnome once more.

"How is he?"

"Fine." She replied, gruffly, "A little thick in the head, eyebrows still the size of fox tails, but fine all the same." She waddled passed him to get to the couch. "Why don't you have a sit with me? There's something we need ta be discussin'."

Gilbert remained where he was, arms folded and watching the old Gnome with wary.

Nana Muckbone made her way to the large chair that stood adjacent to the couch and still facing the fire place. She climbed up with the ease and grace of a two year old in its first steps, but managed to grab and pull her way up. She grunted, shifting as she got comfortable in her seat, then turned to see if Gilbert had moved. When he hadn't, she gave a large toothy grin and chuckled darkly.

"What's the matter, boy? Afraid of a little old Gnome?"

"After last night, I don't think I trust any of you."

"A right sentiment ta have." She nodded. "Even when he was young did England have ta learn the same thing." she chuckled. "I give you my word as a Gnome that I will do ya no harm. Come, sit. There is something serious to discuss."

"Serious? Is it about Arthur?"

"Sit down and I'll tell ya."

Gilbert eyed her again before stepping closer to the couch. She gave a nasty cackle at how timid and cautious he was acting, but stopped herself once he finally sat.

"Growin' a pair, I see."

"Tell me what's wrong with Arthur." He demanded.

"Somethin' foul is swimmin' through his veins, even as we speak. A horrid stench he picked up, shortly after summonin' you. It's poisoning him."

"What? Well, what do we do? How do we get rid of it? Can it kill him?"  
"It can't kill him, just give him an infection that won't heal, but you should know someone like England can't die from a scratch like that."

"What do I do then? How do I fix him?"

"Fixin', boy? You fix things, not the livin'! You speak of Arthur as if he were your own. Fixin' him, and 'my Arthur'. Prideful things like you don't deserve to be guardians…" she spat.

"Well I guess it sucks for you then, because guess what midget-face, I am Arthur's guardian. Now tell me how to cure him."

"I can do no such thing." She sniffed. "I'm a gnome, not a witch. My magic is limited compared to the vast amounts of knowledge that Arthur knows." She leaned back in her seat.

"Then what good are you?" he snapped, standing and turning to pace.

"Plenty if you weren't fool enough to shut yourself off to information when it's given to ya. Honestly, I've never feared for England so much before as I do now knowin' you're the one responsible for his safety."

"Enough with that! Dämon der Hölle." He muttered the last part.

"_You can't hide the sickness you feel in your heart for me_." she said, speaking in German. "_I see you're surprised_._ What's the matter, Prussia, never seen Gnomes running around your home before?_ Now sit down, and be quiet." She waited for him to move, but he did not. His fierce red eyes, though stunned by her reply, continued to look down at her with anger. She eyed him for once last time before sniffing. "Don't think yourself special. If it weren't Arthur that were sick I would have cursed you long ago."

"As if you could…"

"Our arguing is wasting time. Arthur lay sick in bed and all you can think to do is defend yourself? Never mind then, stay where you are, it's all the same to me. Arthur's going to have to somehow expel the poisonous essence he received from the wound by some form of purifying or expulsion spell. What he has is wicked powerful, an' you can be sure that whatever demon that has the same stench is lurking about, looking for him."

"What does he want with Arthur?"

"I can only guess that you two have done something to disrupt a demon's feeding grounds enough for it to try and be seeking a new one. The demon is reachin' out, seeking its next meal. No matter what, Arthur cannot fall to being possessed by such a powerful demon. It could throw the world into chaos! Who knows what madness that demon would turn the other countries to?"

Gilbert stared at the Gnome, partly in disbelief and partly in shock. He shook his head then and leaned over on the couch as he collected his thoughts.

"So this thing… is it here in the house yet? Is it inside Arthur already? What's going on?"

"Thanks to Arthur's protective barriers he's put up around the home its havin' trouble findin' him, that much I can only assume. I cannot say fur sure where it is, or how close to home it has traveled, only that it haunts Arthur's dreams. It's tryin' to break him down, I only hope the lad's will is strong enough…"

Prussia stood up once more and began pacing about the living room, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Arthur was in danger still, and that now he might have to fight off a demon. Nana Muckbone watched him quietly, eyeing him up.

"What will you do now?"

Prussia turned back to the Gnome, eyeing her quietly. She frowned.

"What will ya do now that you know all of this? If ya had such trouble with little pixies and old Gnomes like myself, how can you possibly protect Arthur from something as powerful as a demon?"

"You telling me to give up, old bag?"

"I'm wonderin' if yer shaken in yer boots." she nodded.

"I never back down, I never surrender. I'm not afraid of some ugly hell spawn!"

"Oh?"

"The great me will defeat it no matter what!" he held up his fist. "I'm a great solder, after all. I conquered country after country, never backing down. A demon? That's nothing compared to the wars I've survived."

"Somethin' like this is incomparable to your life so far." She slinked off of the chair and found her way over to the large sitting window. She raised the glass and stepped onto the ledge, then turned to look back up to him. "This will be a test of heart and wills, rather than brains and brawn. I only hope you tame your pride before it becomes you." and with that she leapt out and disappeared from view to head back in to the forest. Prussia frowned at the spot where he had last seen the old Nana Muckbone. Gilbert sat back on the couch and let out a long breath. Though he would never admit it out loud, he felt very unprepared for what lay ahead for both he and Arthur.

Prussia had been a mostly catholic nation, its knights always praying to God for victory in battle against the demons of other nations and even looking to spread the holy word. Never in his life had Prussia actually had to fight off a real demon. The future for him was a blurry mess of half hearted guesses and assumptions made from what he knew about his own folklore and fairy tales. If England's demon was anything like the fearsome demons told in Prussian tales, then Gilbert had a feeling that protecting Arthur wasn't going to be easy.

'Nothing ever worth having is easy to obtain though,' he thought to himself. He leaned back against the couch and ran his fingers through his white hair in thought.

888

Back up stairs, Arthur was turning in his bed restlessly. No matter how hard he tried to think of something else, the memory of the nightmare would come back to him. He was struggling to find sleep, and after trying for an hour he gave up. He dressed himself in nothing more than a loose shirt and a pair of black jeans before heading down stairs.

Arthur walked down the oak steps of the second floor and went into the living room. Once there he saw white hair poking up from behind the back of the couch. Gilbert was muttering quietly to himself, running his hand through his hair with worry. Arthur cleared his throat then, interrupting the string of soft German words.

"Prussia, a word," He called.

Gilbert turned around, casting his worried red eyes at England's with a weary smile.

"So you're finally up at last. You're a heavy sleeper you know." He joked.

"How long have I been out?"

"Since yesterday, and the time now is…" he glanced around until he found the large grandfather clock that sat by the stair case. "Four in the afternoon." He stood up and walked around the couch, leaning on its back. "You feel any better?" he asked, giving him a small smirk.

"Fine. I'm as fit as a fiddle." He smiled back before looking stern once more. He folded his own arms and stood tall the next moment. "but that's not what I wish to discuss."

"I want to talk about it. I went through all that hell last night to get you better, so you'd better be feeling fit as a fiddle."

Arthur sniffed and turned his nose up.

"Oh, yes I heard all about your endeavor. You made quite a fool of yourself, you know? Insulted a lot of the forest folk in my name. It'll all come back to me in the end! I'll never hear the end of it and it'll be all your fault." He huffed, walking closer to playfully jab Gilbert in the chest with his finger.

"Well what was I going to do? My greatness can only do so much! When you fainted like that—"

"I never faint! I passed out." he snapped, growing red.

"I'll admit that I didn't know what to do! It's not like I have a manual about how to be a guardian or anything. So I ran and got you back here, but no matter what I did you wouldn't wake up. Then I thought that that the talking moth would help out, so I ran into the forest. I forgot what your friend looked like, but I figured any one of them would do, right? They're all magic."

"Wrong." muttered Arthur. Gilbert ignored him.

"So I tried to ask them."

"Knowing you I bet it was a demand…"

"And then I tried reasoning with them,"

"Perhaps a threat…?"

"And then I was getting desperate,"

"Or frustrated,"

"… and I just wanted to bring one back and make them help you. Aren't these things suppose to be your friends, anyway? No matter what I did or said they all refused to help you. Their treason and disloyalty was… sickening." said Prussia.

"I understand now." He let out a calm breath and put a hand on Gilbert's shoulder. "It's wasn't disloyalty that kept them away, Gil. I don't blame them for not coming near this house. They were afraid for their lives."

"That's no excuse!"

"Gil, you're being unreasonable."

"No I'm not. Why would you defend them after all of this? It's their kind that's gotten you sick."

"It was an accident!" he insisted.

"An accident? What if you hadn't summoned me to protect you? You'd be at that demon's mercy by now."

England scoffed and turned away.

"I'm not listening to this trash…" he began to walk away, but Prussia grabbed his shoulder.

"I'm just saying."

"What in hell are you trying to say? Because to me all I hear is suspicious yammering. Just what on earth happened to you last night any how to make you so suspicious of my friends?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? So, what, you don't like them just because they're not human?"

"They're tricky little demons who lure and hurt humans, yes I don't like them. I'll tell you something else, it's a good thing I'm already dead or you would have been one short of a guardian."

"No it's a good thing for _you_ that you're already dead!" he jabbed his finger into his chest, less playful. "You're just too thick to understand that the forest folk are to be given the upmost respect. Treat them as such and they'll be helpful to you."

"Ha."

"Excuse me?"  
"You heard me. Ha!"

"Oh I give up!" he threw his hands in the air and turned around once more. Prussia ran in front of him to block his path. "Now what? I'm not listening to anymore of your childish fears."

"I don't get you." he said. "I'm the one who helps you and yet you're defending them?"

"You just don't understand!"  
"I understand that if the old England had any sort of treason he'd have made them walk the plank."

"These creatures are completely different! You can't bind them to any human rules. They live in a completely other world that you pushed yourself into!"

"No, I think you did that when you brought me back, but that's not the point."

"Then what is the point? What do you want? To blame me? Bloody hell—fine! I'm sorry I got sick!" he said, the anger he felt increasing. He felt a fool to think that Prussia had truly been worried about him. "I'm sorry that you had to go into the forest at all! Is that what you want?"

Gilbert reached for Arthur and suddenly grabbed him close, tilting his head by his chin to look up into his eyes. "I want to know why you defend them over the awesome me."

"Let go!"

"It was me after all that saved you. You should be saying how brave I am, that you're forever in my debt, even rewarding me in some way."

"You fucking wanker!" he pushed him again, but Gilbert's grip was frighteningly strong. "I'll use the mark! I swear I will!"

Gilbert seized the back of Arthur's head then and pulled him into a deep kiss.

Arthur was so stunned that he couldn't think to struggle. He found himself closing his eyes and slightly leaning into the cold kiss.

Gilbert pulled away then, gently lifting Arthur's wide eyes to look at him once more.

"I was worried about you, you know."

Arthur couldn't even speak, stunned by Gilbert's gentle tone and actions. It were as if he were entranced by his red eyes, unable to look away as Gilbert began stroking Arthur's hair.

"I hate them… I hate them because they wouldn't help you. I don't care what their rules are, they can burn for all I care— but you, I will never let you die." He continued to stroke Arthur's hair, causing shiver's to go down the other's spine.

"Why?" he said in barely even a whisper. Prussia leaned forward and Arthur shut his eyes in response, thinking he was going to be kissed again.

"_Weil du zu mir gehörst._"

Arthur opened his eyes the moment he felt a sharp pain in his neck.

"G-Gilbert!" He gasped, pulling away. The painful gasp turned to a soft moan as Gilbert continued to suck and lick the small sore spot he made. Arthur's light breath in his ear drove him mad with lust and he held onto Arthur tighter. His tongue traveled up Arthur's neck, then he drew it back as he kissed his earlobe.

Gilbert pulled away then, showing off his proud smirk to a very stunned and red England.

"Because you're too much fun." He let him go in the next moment and walked away.

Disheveled, Arthur stood where his was, bringing a hand up to his neck.

"T…tosser! Wanker! I hate you!" he cried out, embarrassed. "You hear me? I hate you!"

Only Prussia's laughs responded as Arthur gave a cry in frustration and began slinging curses at him.

As Prussia opened the door to his room, and let out a satisfied breath. Arthur's yells let him know that for now, things were back to normal. He opened his eyes and let his gaze fall onto the small calendar that was hung up in the room. He arched an eyebrow, a smile creeping onto his face as he noticed that the next day would be Friday.

'Well, this ought to be an interesting reunion…'

888

1 _Demon of hell _(direct translation)

2 _Because you are mine_ (loosely translated. Thank you to MelodyofStarshine)

Alright, I know people were thinking that it'd be Scotland, but surprise. Now before you start slinging mud at me for an OC and (I admit) the strange character past, I would like to say something. It is my fondest belief that England and other nations are first raised on the stories and folk tales that humans make. Why not be raised on the mythology (literally in this case), since that usually comes before any system of government is achieved. I understand that having Nana Muckbone wasn't something 'romantic' or as beautiful to imagine as having Scotland or Ireland there, but there had to be a reason that Arthur clings so desperately to his magic and mythology.

That being said, for everyone else I hope you enjoyed it. The long awaited World Conference is coming up! The wait is over! Well, at least it will be when I post it. Ha-ha!

Eden K.


	12. Getting There

Getting There

By Eden Killinger

"PRUSSIA!"

Gilbert smirked to himself. He kept his eyes on the ceiling from where he lay on his bed, listening to the approaching stomping.

"You son of a bitch!" Arthur said, slamming the door with his fist. "You knew this would happen! You planned this, I know it! Don't deny it!"

"I don't know what you're talking about~." Gilbert said. His tone was light and airy when he spoke. He rolled on his side and watched the door handle jiggle in its place from Arthur trying to force his way in. "Something wrong, England? Is it time for the awesome me to save you from yet another demon?"

"You know damn well what I'm mad about!"

"I couldn't fathom a guess." He couldn't help but laugh when Arthur let out a frustrated yell.

Gilbert stood up from his bed, on impulse, and hurried to his door to open it. He wanted to catch Arthur off guard so he couldn't cover Gilbert's work up too quickly.

Gilbert flung the door open and looked down, his eyes on England's neck as he gave a wicked but very pleased smile. A red mark, turning a shade of purple, had began to form on the island nation's neck.

"You smug bastard, don't stand there looking like that!" snapped Arthur, covering the hickey. "You did this on purpose!"

Gilbert laughed, watching Arthur's face turn red.

"What's done is done." He shrugged. "Yelling at me won't make it go away."

"Good lord! Everyone will see it and start assuming the wrong thing." He turned around and put a hand on his head. "It'd be even more suspicious if I try to cover it up in some way… but perhaps they won't question if I'm wearing a scarf or something."

It was then he felt Gilbert drape his arms around his shoulders and lean in to him. Arthur's posture went ridged as Gilbert began whispering softly into his ear.

"I can think of something worse than one mark on your neck." He went to put his lips on the other side of his neck.

"Oh no you don't!" he elbowed him sharply in the ribs, prying the other man off of him. "I have absolutely no idea what's gotten into you since last night but if you try something like that again tonight I will not hesitate to make you sleep out in the snow!" he commanded sternly. Prussia merely gave a playful shrug in response. "I'm serious."

"I know." He smirked. "The only question is will you be able to resist the awesome me?"

"I think I'll manage…" he muttered darkly. " Now have you packed yet? Get everything you'll need?— Though you won't need much I imagine. Remember to wear something inconspicuous, something no one will recognize you in. No wait, perhaps you should just show up in your uniform, after all it would be in bad form to show up with you looking like some random hobo I got off the street—Good Lord what am I saying! The more unfamiliar the better! Germany will have a fit if he sees you— but if I walk in with some random stranger the others will think—"

"Oi, oi, oi, just hold on a moment and take a breath." said Prussia. "You're talking in circles here, just relax."

Arthur opened his mouth to argue but Prussia put his hands on his shoulders.

"Relax," he insisted. "Take in a deep breath and let it out." he waited as Arthur grudgingly did so. "There, now what's stressing you out?"  
"You are!" he exclaimed. "Good Lord! You're back from the dead, guarding me against demons and ghosts, driving me completely insane with all your arguing, and all the while I have to resume life and go to meetings—where the people there think I'm crazy! I can only imagine what they're going to say about my behavior from last time—very un-gentleman like—Good Lord I should have—"

"You're getting wound up again." He interrupted. "Jeeze, you're really acting so unawesome this morning. Tsk, don't you remember the advice I so graciously bestowed upon you?"

"You? Advice?"

"Yes. I said stop caring about what everyone else thinks, and that's what you should be doing now!" he grinned proudly. Arthur only looked back at him flatly, feeling as though his stomach had dropped lower into his body.

"You're kidding. _That_ advice?"

"Why not, it's full proof."

"You don't understand! How can you not? You're the one who's been brought back from the dead!"

"Details." He shrugged.

Arthur threw his hands in the air in exasperation, and turned to walk away.

"Now what are you doing?"

"I have to make a few calls before I leave, then I have to pack… tooth brush, extra shirt, socks…" he began mumbling a list to himself, forgetting that he had been speaking to Gilbert at all.

Gilbert watched him, shaking his head with worry. He let out a breath and quietly followed the unsuspecting Arthur to his door. Gilbert watched as he set to work on throwing things in a pile while dialing his phone at the same time. Arthur began speaking into the receiver of his cordless phone as he hurriedly looked through his drawers.

"Yes, hello Stephanie, this is Sir Kirkland speaking, is the Prime Minister in? Yes I'll hold." He began muttering furiously about the right tie to wear and why it was always so hard to find. "Ah—yes, good morning sir."

A pause.

"Yes, well I have the same notes and documents from the last time. I wanted to call and ask if there were any new points I had to… no sir."

There was another pause, Arthur stopped searching and stood taller.

"Yes sir, fully rested and ready to work. There will not be another interruption again, " his gaze turned to Prussia then, almost startling the other nation. "I guarantee it." Prussia could have sworn that he had been given a slight smile before England turned around once more. "Thank you, sir. Good day." And he hung up.

"Does this mean you trust me?"

Arthur turned to look at Gilbert, that same smile apparent on his face.

"If I must, then I shall." He replied coyly. Prussia snorted and smirked back, recognizing that his Arthur would never give his emotions away so easily.

It wasn't long before Arthur was left waiting at the door. He was fully dressed in his dark green uniform, with his matching tie that he found, and was wearing a large over coat to protect him from the chill of winter. He held his suit case in one hand and was jangling his keys nervously in the other. His green eyes stared dully at the stair case.

"Hurry up or I'm leaving you behind!" called Arthur. "Just what the hell are you doing up there anyway?"

"I'm coming, I'm coming! You never offered me a suitcase so I went and found one of my own." He called back. England raised an eyebrow, wondering where he could find an extra suit case.

Prussia walked down the steps with a large emerald colored trunk. England's jaw nearly dropped when he saw the sight of Prussia lugging it down the stairs.

"What on earth— how did you find that—never mind! Why are you taking it?"

"It's awesome, old-timey, and has a real good awesome vibe about it."

"Wha… no way! There is no way you are lugging that trunk around for a meeting that'll only be for two days!"

"Why?"  
"Because I said so! Look at it! It's huge!"

The trunk was tall enough to reach Prussia's knees. Prussia noticed this, then gave a shrug and smiled.

"I like it." He grinned. "If I like it, then it's awesome, therefore it can go with us."

England sighed.

"Alright, fine, but you're carrying it the whole way there and back."

"Like I can't." he snorted. "You forget how awesome I really am."

"You just can't make anything easy, can you?"

"Where would the fun be in that?" he shrugged back.

Prussia walked into the crisp winter air and waited as Arthur locked the door behind them. He spotted a long, dark blue car parked in England's driveway with a man in the driver's seat.

"Give me a moment, will you Gil?" asked Arthur, setting his suitcase down.

Arthur held his hands up in prayer and mumbled quietly in Gaelic. Prussia watched him, noticing the small wind that picked up around England as he continued. The wind swirled around him and then shot in through the key hold of his home, disappearing.

"What was that?" asked Gil, interested.

"A little charm to ensure we don't come home to any nasty surprises." He picked his things back up and turned to see the parked car. Arthur headed towards it, motioning for Gilbert to follow him. "With all of your fooling around, I hope we haven't missed the flight."

"You have to run on someone else's schedule? Not awesome."

Arthur said nothing in return as he climbed into the back of the car, scooting over for Gilbert to shove his trunk into the wide floor space.

"Top of the mornin', sir Arthur." said the driver. His accent was a thick cockney one. "An' I see you have a friend today, that's rare."

"I'm Arthur's bodyguard." He answered.

"Bodyguard? Is there some trouble happening with you, Sir?"

"None, James." answered Arthur, before Gilbert could answer. "He's just an extra precaution on my travels."

"Are you going on holiday?"

"I only wish." sighed Arthur, "But sadly I'm just off to another boring meeting."

"A shame." He nodded.

The car started and they pulled out from the driveway and started down the dirt road to get to the town.

"So, James," started Gilbert, "You been Arthur's driver for long?"

"Not quite so long, sir." He replied. "I'd say about four or five years."

"Really…"

Arthur looked over to him with suspicious questioning. Gilbert shook his head back at him, as if trying to lay Arthur's suspicions to rest. He turned his attention back to the driver when he knew Arthur was looking away.

"So… did you know Arthur can see the dead?"

Arthur sat up right and glared at Gilbert.

"The dead, sir?" the driver asked.

"Yup, you know, ghosts, demons, fairies, and stuff like that."

"I don't think I follow."

"N-Never mind him." Arthur interrupted. "Would you mind giving us some privacy?"

"Yes, Sir." And with that the little black blinder rose, separating driver and passengers.

Arthur turned back to Gilbert, his face already red.

"What on earth are you thinking?"

"He doesn't care." He shrugged.

"That's not the point, what the hell is the matter with you?"

"I'm helping you get over you fear of caring."

"Oh this nonsense again." He huffed. "Do me a favor and stop helping me."

"You'll see I'm right." He nodded back. "If you keep caring then you'll just be letting that jerk America walk all over you, saying whatever he wants."

"Oh lord, that'll be the day won't it?" He snapped. "Just keep your mouth shut." He ordered, his hand up.

Gilbert narrowed his eyes back at him when he felt his jaw clench against his will, but only stared in front of himself with his arms folded. Arthur smiled back and put a hand on Gilbert's shoulder.

"You know, you're not half bad when you're like this. Maybe I should have you be quiet more often." He teased lightly, but Gilbert's frown only deepened.

The rest of the trip went smoothly and with very little sounds from Gilbert. Arthur hadn't freed him from his inability to speak until they had boarded the plane. He had received an angered earful from the Prussian and was tempted to shut him up in the same way once more. Prussia did eventually stop, allowing Arthur to have a short nap as they flew into Germany.

Once landing in the airport, the two of them hailed a cab. There had been some difficulty with the cab driver and the large emerald trunk that Gilbert was determined to bring. The man argued that there was no room in the taxi for it, and Gilbert had yelled back to him that there was in fact room and that he was an idiot for not seeing that. This resulted in the taxi nearly driving away, but Arthur had desperately plead with the man in the best German he knew that they were already running behind schedule to a very important meeting. He added that he'd tip kindly if the driver would just over look Gilbert's idiocy.

Gilbert rode in be back with the trunk on his lap, jetting out so it hit the cab wall and pushed his stomach into the seat. All Arthur could do was cover his face in shame from the sight of it.

"I told him it would fit…"

"Twat."

Finally they had arrived at the hotel, and Arthur was fifteen franks shorter than originally planned. They entered the Hotel, and Arthur let Gilbert talk to the front desk about the reservations he had set, for his German was still limited. He had to admit that, along with the help he'd get with the supernatural, Gilbert would be quite useful on this trip.

They made their way up to the room, and by the time Arthur had slid the key-card into the slot he had very much wanted nothing more but to collapse on the bed. He walked into the hallway, gently laying his case to the side, and flopped down on the bed. He smiled to himself, enjoying the feeling of a bed underneath him. In the next moment he felt Gilbert's weight shift the bed.

"Off, wanker." He frowned, though refused to open his eyes.

"You notice something about this room, Limy?"

"I don't care if it isn't up to your standards of 'awesome'." He replied.

"Oh it's not that. I don't really mind all that much, but I just figured you'd get all red in the face about it again."

"What are you going on about?" he opened his eyes and turned to look at Gilbert. It was then that he could see the walls of the room out of the corner of his eyes. He looked from one side, to the next, and realized he was sitting on the only bed. "There's been a terrible mistake here." He grew red in the face.  
"Knew it." smiled Prussia.

"Sh-shut up! This only means you'll be sleeping on the floor!"

"What!" he whined. "No way is greatness like myself going to roll around on the floor all night!"

"Well I'm not sleeping on the floor either. I'm the one who bought the room—"

"Oh, so you wanted us to sleep together, huh?" in one swift movement Prussia leaned into England's face, tilting his chin to look into his red eyes once more. "That can be arranged."

"GAH!" he leaped off the bed and stood on the other side of the small room. "Good Lord, you're worse than France!"

Gilbert only laughed and pointed at Arthur.

"You got off the bed! I guess that means I win!"

"It does not! Floor!" he held out his hand and suddenly Prussia rolled off the bed and hit the floor.

"I hate that _Gott verdammt_ mark!" he yelled out. It was Arthur's turn to start laughing.

"Oh it's like pulverizing Spain's armada all over again." He laughed, victoriously. "There now, can't do anything now, can you? So long as I have the mark, I have the bed." He smirked.

England's grin faltered as soon as he caught the predatory look in Prussia's eye. Quicker than England could react, Prussia stood and rushed him. Arthur's arms were suddenly pinned above his head and against the wall.

"Pruss—"

"You can't use that mark if I'm too busy distracting you…" he grinned wickedly and leaned in to Arthur's face.

"Gil—what are you—get back!" he demanded.

Gilbert's lips were hovering barely an inch away from Arthur's. He paused there, listening to England's quick breathing for a moment.

"Nervous yet?" he teased.

"Get off!"

And with that Prussia kissed England! England shook his head out of the kiss and pushed the other Nation away enough to look into his eyes.

"What has come over you that you think it's alright to do such a thing to me?" he demanded. "I ought to—"

"You weren't complaining last night."

"Shut up!" he snapped. "I was dizzy! I had just woken up! You were—"

"Awesome."

"You were not!"

"Just say it…" he pressed himself against Arthur. "You still haven't rewarded me for saving you the other night."

"How dare you!"

"You're not saying no…" he leaned his head in to give him yet another kiss, when suddenly the phone rang.

Arthur looked over to his suitcase where he could hear his cell phone going off, then back to Prussia.

"I need to get that."

"Says who?"

Arthur strongly broke his arm away from his grip and sternly commanded Prussia to get off of him. Prussia backed away, frowning as Arthur raced to his phone.

"He-hello?" Arthur answered.

"Iggy? Where are you?" asked Alfred. Arthur's eyes widened and he turned to search for a clock.

"Alfred? What do you mean— I can't be late, can I? It isn't starting yet, is it?"

"Calm down a little, Iggy." said Alfred. "The meeting doesn't start for another while. I was just making sure you were still coming."

"You're checking up on me, that's new." He sniffed. "So now you know that I'm here. Anything else, git?"

"Aww come on, you're not still sore at me from the other day, are you?"

"Maybe I am."

He could hear Alfred letting out a breath before he leaned back into the phone receiver and spoke.

"Alright, then I'm sorry. It was a real low blow, and I'm an idiot for having said it." He paused. "I just got worried when I saw East Germany there and I… He riled me up, but I wasn't angry at you."  
"Yes, you can have quite a temper, can't you?" sniffed Arthur. He glanced over at Prussia, who was watching him quietly with a frown apparent on his face. He began making movements with his hand, and mouthed the words 'bla bla bla'. Arthur turned back to his conversation, rolling his eyes in the process.

"Listen, I want to talk to you more, before the meeting. Do you want to meet up in the lobby?"

"I'm not exactly sure that I want to talk to you. I'm still sore at you for what you said."

"I know, and I really am sorry, Arthur. Just give me a chance and I'll explain myself, _please_?" he asked. Alfred used the tone that Arthur often found hard to refuse. It had worked on the older nation ever since America had been a colony asking for another helping of pudding or another story before bed.

Arthur let out a sigh and shut his eyes.

"Alright, alright. I'll meet up with you later."

"Great. I'll see you at the meeting."

"Whatever." He pulled the phone away and closed it, letting out a tiered breath.

Gilbert watched him look to the phone with the same distant gaze he had seen so many times before. He felt something within him burn right then. Arthur's emerald green eyes shimmered when he had that look; it was so beautiful, but so elusive. He turned his head, not wanting Arthur to see the contempt he felt for Alfred right then, or the weak un-awesome jealousy he harbored.

"Well then, I guess we best be on our way." said, Arthur standing.

"What, are you that eager to see Lard-O?"

"Hardly." He huffed. "Get dressed and let's go."

"Dressed? Aren't I already?" he wondered, turning back.

"Well, I mean, find something more inconspicuous to put on."

"Not this again…" he muttered. "How much time do we have before we leave?"

"I'd say… five minuets. Why?"

"No reason." He wandered over to the emerald colored trunk and dragged it noisily into the bathroom. Arthur raised a suspicious eyebrow and walked over to the bathroom door.

"I said something inconspicuous, you know."

"I heard you!"

_Ten_ minuets passed, and Arthur was banging on the bathroom door, demanding that Prussia was taking far too long to get dressed.

"Get out here this instant! I refuse to be late to a meeting that was rescheduled because of me in the first place!"

"Haven't you ever heard of being awesomely late?"

"It's called 'fashionably' late."

"Not if you're me."

"I've had enough of this! Get-out-here-now!" he commanded. The door opened, revealing Prussia in a canary yellow sleeveless vest that covered a long-sleeve white T-shirt. He wore a pair of jeans and a white belt with a German cross that he had bought back in England.

"Are you finished fooling around?"

"Relax." He said, shortly, as if to brush England off rather than really convince him of his word.

"What's the matter with you?" he quirked an eyebrow.

Prussia remained silent, refusing to let him know about the bitter jealously he felt right then. England sighed and shook his head, rubbing his eyes in exhausted.

"I'll be glad when this day is over…" he muttered. "Never mind it then, let's go." He turned and opened the door and walked out of the room.

A taxi was once more hailed, with less argument than before from either side, and they hurried through the snow and traffic to reach their destination. Once the fee was paid, Arthur hurried Gilbert inside, grabbing the hood over the other man's head in a hurry.

They stopped only when they were away from the door and the wandering eyes of other Nations who were entering. Arthur's hand was holding Prussia's wrist as he looked around nervously. Prussia looked to Arthur's hand on his wrist; he could just barely feel his touch. His eyes flicked back up to Arthur and he let a small smile trace his lips.

"Relax, England." Gilbert said quietly. "Follow me."

Prussia held Arthur's hand and lead him away from the lobby and in to the men's room. They stood inside the light blue tiled room, quietly listening for anyone who could be in. Luckily the place was empty, allowing them to speak freely.

Arthur continued to look about him, suspicious of the closed stalls. Prussia rolled his eyes and squeezed his hand reassuringly. This sparked Arthur into remembering that he was holding Prussia hand, and he immediately let go.

"I-I've warned you before, do not touch me!" he said. "It's the snowy cold for you tonight if you try anything even remotely close to what you did back in the room!"

"You're welcome." Prussia shrugged, giving very little thought to England's threat.

Arthur huffed and folded his arms.

"Now listen to me. Stay down here and don't do anything. If I need you I'll call you with the mark."

"Duh." He shrugged.

"I can't see any demons around, and I doubt we were being followed, but you should still keep an eye out. Also, don't talk to anyone, don't look at anyone—"

"Okay, okay… sheesh. You should have a little faith in me at least. I am your guardian after all."

"Alright then, I'll trust you to take care of anything that'll wander in here?"

"Of course." He grinned back, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Arthur paused, looking into his confident eyes with a hint of worry, but masked it in the next minuet.

"Right, well I'll see you when the meeting is over—and you'd better still be here!" he began walking away and back to the bathroom door.

"I will, _Mein Gott_." Gilbert muttered and Arthur passed him. "Don't get too kissy with America."

"Kraut."

With that Arthur left, leaving the Prussian to push down the urge to grab him back.

Arthur left the men's bathroom and walked out into the open lobby, looking around for the brash American to make his entrance. He wasn't disappointed, for in the next moment he saw Alfred push through the golden lined revolving door. He was shivering and had snow piled on his shoulders.

"Gah! Germany's house is too cold for me." exclaimed the American to no one. Arthur cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting to be noticed. Eventually Arthur was noticed, but only after America brushed the snow off of his shoulders and rubbed the warmth back in his arms. "Oh, Iggy!" he addressed.

"Honestly, if you're going to call me by my name at least do it properly."

"Alright, I'll wait until we get into the meeting room, huh?" he smiled back.

"Do as you wish." He waved him off. "Now if you are done fooling around..."

"Hey come on, don't be like." Alfred began following behind Arthur as he made his way to the elevator. "I'm glad to see you, why aren't you glad to see me?"

"Isn't is obvious?"

"Hey I thought you said you weren't mad anymore."

"No, I said I'd speak to you before the meeting." He smirked, "You still have no real perception of English. The pixies would have gotten you long ago if I hadn't been there for you."

Arthur could feel Alfred become silent behind him, but acted as though he were oblivious to the sudden change in mood.

"You know I hate it when you—"

"Ah, but then again you can't see them or hear them, so I suppose it makes very little difference to you. Of course when I was a child I was tricked every day until I learned. Tricky little devils."

"There's just no reasoning with you, is there?"

They stepped into the elevator together. The doors shut and after Alfred pressed the button, they rode all the way up to the twelfth floor. Alfred ran a hand through his ashy blond locks, and let out a frustrated breath.

"If you'd just let me in, if you'd just put down this magic nonsense and let me help you I would."

Arthur said nothing, merely ignoring the heartbreak he felt as he adjusted his uniform's cuff link.

"Frankly Alfred, I don't give a damn."

"You can't use that line, that's my line from my movie."

A sharp 'ding' rung out, alerting the two of them of their destination. The doors opened to a long, cream colored hallway. A few members of the meeting were in the hallway, waiting for the meeting to start up.

They walked out of the elevator quietly and passed by a few of the nations. China and Japan were having a light conversation in the hall way, and had dipped their heads in greeting as America and England passed. The nations did the same back, but continued on in silence.

Arthur was tapped on the shoulder, and saw that America was pointing to a door to their right. England remembered that room. The last time he had been in it he had been dealing with the little ghost, Elizabeth. He followed America without a word, and waited for the door to close for the yelling to begin.

The door clicked shut, but everything remained silent. Arthur refused to turn to look at America, keeping his back to him with his arms folded. He heard the familiar crumpling of a burger wrapper and didn't give it a second thought.

"So, is Prussia still at your place, or did he come with you?"

"I fail to see where that is any of your business."

There was a pause. Arthur heard Alfred take a bite out of his burger and much quietly.

"I mean, well… look I don't think he should be around you. He's just not a good guy."

England remained silent.

"I mean, well what really happened to your shoulder. It's healed up now right? It looked like a bad wound… did East do that to you?"

More silence.

"You can tell me. Please tell me."

"Why do you care, America?"

"Not this again." He let out a breath and wrapped his burger back up, then stuffed it in his suit case. Arthur heard him walk closer. "I've cared about you. You know I do. I'd be there for you if you needed me in a heartbeat because we're allies, remember?" Alfred stopped only a foot away from England. "Hey, what is that bruise on your neck?"

Arthur realized with a horrible sinking feeling that in the rush of the morning he had forgotten the little mark. He bit his lip as his mind scrambled for something to say.

"I... a lamp fell on me this morning."

"A lamp."

"Yes." He turned back to him. "And it's none of your business."

"Yea right it isn't. I'm starting to think there really is a problem here, and I don't like what's been going on with you lately."

Arthur frowned at him, but turned around completely. He remained silent, merely arching an eyebrow as America continued.

"You're talking about your imaginary fairies and pixies in the open, hanging around with East Germany, leaving meetings because of ghosts…"

Arthur's shoulder twinge painfully at that moment. He didn't fully understand the reason, but instead of wincing, he laughed. Alfred stared at him as Arthur chuckled sarcastically back in his face.

"Why the sudden interest, America? Is it because of Prussia? Is he really that much of a threat to you?" he gave a wicked smirk that made Alfred's blood go cold. America narrowed his eyes at England then and stood straighter.

"Don't call him Prussia. He's East Germany."

Arthur laughed again.

"You are threatened by him. Why, America? Is it because he is around me more than you are? Is it because he actually gives a damn about me and openly believes in what I do?"

"He's encouraging you…" Alfred almost growled. He spoke not to Arthur, it seemed, but to himself. "I'm warning you, Arthur. The only reason why East would be hanging around you is because he wants something from you."

"Oh because of course nobody would want to be around me because they liked me, that's just ridiculous, isn't it?" he snapped, angrily.

"No, that's not what I meant!" he argued back. "Listen to me! You remember East, you remember his past as Prussia don't you? He never does anything without wanting something in return. If he's spending time with someone it only means that he's looking for something from them."

"You're wrong!"

"Am I?" America approached him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Arthur couldn't hide the wince he made. Alfred took his hand off. "You're wound is still there?"

"It's nothing of your concern."

"Jeeze, look at that mark, its huge." His sky blue eyes looked into Arthur's then, his gaze piercing. Arthur was trapped by that gaze, for it was so genuinely worried and seemed as though he was just barely able to hold back the desperation he wished to express. "Arthur, you have to tell me, understand? You have to tell me the truth. Has he hurt you?"

"Prussia?"

"Why do you keep calling him that? Prussia doesn't exist! Arthur, has he hurt you?" he gently grabbed his shoulders.

Arthur's mind suddenly flashed his memories before him. He remembered the blood lust in Prussia when he had brutally sleighed the demon. He remembered being held strongly by Prussia when he was suddenly kissed against his will; the painful bite mark on his shoulder; the hotel room with his predatory gaze before pinning him against the wall. The words '_Weil du zu mir gehörst' _ran through his mind. What did it mean? Alfred's words snapped him back into reality.

"We're allies, remember? If anyone hurt you then you can come to me, I'm the Hero."

He suddenly pushed Alfred away.

"Don't think you can start touching me as you please." he snapped. "Gilbert hasn't harmed me, he'd never harm me!"

"That ugly thing on your neck has his ego written all over it."

"Shut up!" he clasped his hand over the bruise. "Shut up or I'll curse you!"

"Are you doing this on purpose? Is this just a game to you?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing." He spat back. "Why are you feigning worry over me out of the blue?"

"You can't say that! I… really care about you."

"I don't believe you for a second, idiot America! Wanker, wanker, wanker, wanker!"

"Fine! You want the truth? It's because—"

The door opened suddenly and the two of them jumped and turned to see N. Italy staring back at them.

"Germany says that the meeting is going to begin soon and that everyone should get to the meeting rooms." He said, happily. Both nations stared back at him quietly, barley able to do much but give a nod in response. Italy looked to the both of them, the smile falling off of his face. "Ve~ What's wrong? Were you two fighting?"

They hesitated for a moment, then let their guards down, deciding that the time they had to discuss the situation had passed.

"Never mind, Italy." said England, putting on a smile. "I'll come with you now."

"Good. You should come too, America." He smiled back. America looked to England, but the nation's back was turned to him once more. He looked back to Italy with the best smile he could muster.

"Sure. After all, the meeting can't begin without the Hero."

888

Prussia had walked out of the bathroom only a few moments after England had. He had watched America's entrance, and the exchange the two had indulged in. He looked away from them and continued to get lost in the crowd. He kept telling himself that England would look for him when it was over, that they'd go back to the room together. He denied any thoughts that England would leave him, after all he was too awesome to leave.

'What am I worried about?' he frowned. 'England's as bound to me as I am to him! He can't leave me.' Gilbert swore that tonight he would do everything he could to steal away any thoughts of America from England's mind. He walked around the crowded lobby, his eyes scanning around for anything out of the ordinary. His thoughts became distracted though, occupied by England and America alone.

He tried to push any suspicion out of his mind, but he wondered just how much chastity and heroic behavior that Alfred really displayed when he was alone. He smirked then, remembering the little message he had sent Alfred, wondering if he had spotted it on Arthur neck yet. He snickered, imagining the face America was making.

'Haha! Prussia claims another victory.' He allowed his mind to wander into planning how the night was going to turn out.

The surprised cries of the people in the lobby snapped Gilbert to attention. He looked to the revolving door that was spinning so quickly it was nearly a blur! Standing before everyone was a vicious and snarling beast, but no one seemed to notice it.

'Already?' thought Gilbert, shocked.

The hound was black skinned and didn't have a single hair on its body. Its yellow eyes had dots of red to serve as pupils that were darting from person to person. The creature was bearing its sharp yellow fangs, snapping it as people as they rushed to help those trapped in the door.

'That thing is huge! Almost up to my waist!' he stood from his seat and continued to watch the demon from afar. It sniffed the ground, and like any normal dog began following Arthur's sent to the elevator. 'It'll find Arthur soon enough if I don't' do something—but it's huge!' his brow knit into a furrow and he frowned. 'It'll rip me to shreds if I'm not careful about this one. I'll need a weapon or something."

The hound drew closer to the elevator. 'I have to do something!' he turned and grabbed an expensive looking vase, then hurtled it at the Hell Hound! It shattered across the beasts face. It let out a surprised yelp before turning to see who had dared do such a thing. Its eyes locked on Gilbert, and it snarled back at him.

'Well it's distracted at least.'

The hound suddenly burst out running to Prussia, its jaw opening and foam falling from the corners of its mouth. It lunged for Prussia, threatening to tear through his neck. Prussia fell back with the beast, and kicked his legs up into its chest. This flung the hound off but did very little to hurt it. In fact when Prussia turned over the demon was already beginning to circle him for another attack. Its growls came out in short breaths, almost like a deep chuckle. It rushed for Prussia, and before he knew it he had the jaws of the hound only inches away from his face! The dangerous demon had him on his back, sliding on the slick stone floor as he tried to snatch the former nation's face! The gnashing teeth snapped, the hound gave little frustrated yelps and barks, and its sharp claws began tearing at Prussia's cloths.

"_Gott verdammt Scheiße! __Du bekommst Arthur nicht!_*" he yelled out.

The beast suddenly pulled its head away from Prussia's grasp and lunged at him once more! Its jaws clamped painfully down on Prussia's shoulder, but it suddenly let go of him in the next minuet with a horrid yelp. It backed away from Prussia, its tongue lolling out of its mouth and growling fiercely at him.

"What's the matter you bastard? Can't get a good taste?" he snarled at the beast. He stood up once more. "Don't like my taste? You know what I am now, don't you?" it only growled at him and barked fiercely. 'It may not like me,' thought Gilbert, 'but I still need to kill it.'

As if the beast could read his mind, it suddenly turned tail and ran to the nearest open elevator! Prussia followed the beast, but the door shut before he could get in. He slammed on the door with his fist, frustrated, but turned and ran to the stair way immediately. He had to stop that demon before it found Arthur.

Prussia was almost to the door when suddenly he heard a scream. He turned and saw a woman begin terrified by a small bat creature pulling at her hair.

"Ahahaha!Where is that delicious smell coming from, eh woman?"

"What's going on?" yelled the woman, confused as something that to her was invisible pulled at her hair. Prussia watched at the little demon let go of her hair, cackling as he did. He flew up into an open vent, crawled in, and disappeared.

'Oh Gott! I need to get Arthur out of here before more show up!' Prussia turned back to the stair well and flung the door open. 'Or until I get a freakin' gun or something!'

888

So school is going well, and assignments are important as they always have been in my life. This would explain why this chapter is late. There will be more World Meeting drama as well as heroic!Prussia. Lol, I like to think of England saying Good Lord alot when he's stressed out. I hope you continue to read, and don't worry, ther'll be more to come!

P.S the title here feels very Japanese to me. You know, just like putting random words together to spark an emotion and an image rather than convey a real message. I just wanted to lol at myself for that. I have no gift for titles.

*Goddamn ugly shit! You aren't getting Arthur!


	13. The World Conference

The World Conference

By Eden Killinger

England walked in to the conference room where the World Meeting was being held. The meeting table was large and long, running in a U shape so that every country may somehow face the front. Glasses of water, were set by each Nation, and the entire table was covered with a long white table cloth that draped over the front and onto the laps of the nations.

Both Arthur and Alfred were being lead to their own seats by Italy. The other Nations had taken their seats and were settling in. Italy wandered over to the right side of the room.

"America, you're seat is over there, by Mr. Latvia and… and… who ever that guy is."

America did indeed see an empty seat between Latvia and Canada that was reserved for him. He felt disheartened that his seat was nowhere near where England was sitting. He turned to say one last thing to England, but was out right ignored but the Briton, who turned away the moment the other had opened his mouth.

England could feel America staring at the back of his head as he walked away with Italy to find his seat.

Italy lead them both over to the end of the room where other European countries were sitting. England noticed an open seat, and frowned deeply at the thought of who he was to be sitting next to.

"Ve~! Ciao, France!" greeted Italy. England wished he hadn't called the Frenchman's attention, though he knew there was no avoiding it once he had sat down.

Francis looked over and smiled up at Italy, then noticed England and his smile grew wider. He resembled a smug looking toad who had just cornered a fly. England felt chills from the look, and wondered exactly what had the Frenchmen acting so confident.

"Bonjour Italy, _Angleterre_."

"You'll be sitting here, England." Italy smiled to him. England thanked the smiling Nation, who walked off to go sit with his twin brother Romano.

England grudgingly sat down, though he did his best not to look bothered. He kept his eyes looking forward and waited for the meeting to begin, hoping to get through the ordeal without having to say a word to France.

"'Allo, _Angleterre_?"

Silence.

"'Ow rude, I 'ave said _hello_ to you and yet you ignore me! (humph) And you call you're self a gentleman." He scoffed.

England turned to him, frowning deeply as he muttered a bitter hello in return.

"Ah, ziz is much better, non? Speaking of which, are you still feeling ill, mon ami?" France paused, waiting for England to reply but he did not. England had taken up his brief case and was unloading paperwork in front of him. "No? You are better? Not seeing any more ghosts…?" France persisted, but still England was silent. "Ah I see, 'ow very nice." He smiled and leaned into his space. "You are in a good mood, Angleterre, I can tell. Usually you are never so quiet and strong like this. You are always noisy, always shouting. Non, today you are in a good mood." His tone had a slight hint of mocking as he spoke. He leaned forward and lay his chin on his hand as he looked the Englishman over. "If I am not mistaken, did you not have a spring in your step when you walked in?"

Arthur gave a small snort, for in his mind nothing could be further from the truth.

"Yes, I think you did~." He teased lightly once more.

England let out a breath and turned to him, arching an eyebrow.

"What are you going on about with all of your noise, France?"

"I was merely stating zat you looked good today, and I bet I know why." He then gave England a very sly, mischievous smile.

"Do you now? Well whatever it is you can forget it you perverse frog."

"At least I was not ze one who had tumbled in to ze bed with East Germany."

The color drained from Arthur's face in that moment. He turned back to France, wide-eyed and his mouth hanging open slightly.

"H-How did you know— I mean, nothing happened!" he snapped.

"Oh, so ziz is true? East did go to your 'ouse? And 'ere I thought _Amerique_ was merely telling lies."

Arthur's head turned to the direction of where America sat, casting his poisonous green gaze upon him. America noticed England, then noticed France waving back at him with a wink. America sunk in his seat and tried to hide his face behind the burger he was munching on.

Arthur turned back to France, determined to end the rumor there and then, when Germany's stern voice rang out.

"Alright, everybody quiet down." He ordered loudly. The dull murmur around the room died down quickly and everyone turned their attention to Germany. He looked them over, making sure he had their full and complete attention before he began. "I thank you all for coming back out to try this meeting once more."

"Why did we have to reschedule in the first place?" called out Romano. He ignored Italy's quiet plea for him to be quiet. "Eh, potato breath? Why'd we quit early last time? Nobody said anything to me."

"Da, tell us, Germany." smiled Russia. "It was an inconvenience to fly home just to turn around and come back so soon." Though he wore a kind face, one could feel the irritation behind his words.

"One of us was feeling… ill that day." Said Germany

Greece gave a sneeze just then.

"I'm not feeling much better myself, either." Though usually soft spoken, Greece was now irritated and made tiered from recovering from his economic crisis. "Does that mean I get to go home now?"

"I wanna know who it was that ran out of here and dragged me back to this _kraut _house." demanded Romano.

"Da, I myself and quite curious as to who was ill as well." said Russia, his iron pipe in hand.

England looked to Germany, expecting him to turn the anger of the other countries onto him. Instead, Germany looked back at Romano, and with a straight face replied,

"The more we argue about something trivial the more you will be forced to stay in this _Kraut house_. I suggest we move on and pick up where we last left off so we may return to our jobs in due time."

The other Nations murmured their agreement and made ready to take notes on the speech once more. England quietly let out a breath that he had been holding in, relieved beyond words that Germany hadn't pointed fingers. Germany did, however, glare at England for only a moment before he turned to the white board behind him.

Germany's speech began, but England was tapped on the shoulder by France suddenly. He ignored the Frenchman, who then leaned in to whisper to him.

"Don't worry, Angleterre, your secret is safe with me. Oh, and by ze way, you might want to lift you shirt collar a bit higher, mon ami."

England felt his insides crawl then, remembering the hickey on his neck. With a feeling of dread, he wondered if Germany had heard the rumor, and could only prey that he hadn't. He feared how Ludwig would react to seeing his dead brother waltzing about in the lobby downstairs.

'Prussia, you had better be keeping yourself out of trouble.'

888

Prussia was busy rushing up the emergency fire stair case, running after the Hell Hound that had found its way into one of the elevators from the lobby. It was then that the little gremlin from not but a few minuets ago had found its way out of the vents and was flying just above him. Prussia stopped when he sat the creature and turned to face him.

"_Well looky here_." laughed the Gremlin. "_A guardian so far from his guard!"_

Prussia growled in his throat as he looked up at them.

"Get down here and fight me you coward!"

"_Oh no, I haven't time for games! Many more are coming, I must make haste and get there first_!"

"What?" Exclaimed Prussia. "There are more of you little bastards coming here?

"_Little, tall, small, big! Many have found the sent of your keep alluring, but the Grey has put out a bounty on him!"_

"The Grey? Who are they?"

"_The Grey are demons most fearsome, who cling to the living and prey on their fears until the weak little humans die! Then they trap them in purgatory, forever!"_ it cackled again_ "They are also powerful and can grant any demon one wish! I'll be the one who gets that wish for sure!_"

"You aint getting jack, you little rat!" he yelled out.

The gremlin cackled and flew away once more, into the vent.

Prussia watched him escape, then turned and kept running to the next floor. In his book the Gremlin was nothing. He was desperate to get to the Hell Hound that had burst into the building before it got to Arthur first.

He scrambled his way up to the fith floor, and burst through the door, looking around for any sign of the demon. Too late did he spot the demonic bear sized head poke back into the elevator.

Gilbert cursed and ducked back into the stair case, running up the next flight of steps. He dashed out into the hallway only to watch as the hound quickly ducked back into the elevator. Gilbert wondered what the hell hound was doing, and why it was stopping at every floor. Determined to find out, he ran up the next two flight of stairs to watch it.

In the next minuet the golden elevator doors opened, and the demonic animal stepped out. It walked around, sniffing the floor for Arthur's scent.

'So the beast can't pin point him exactly. Good, this gives me some time.' He watched the animal duck back into the elevator before turning back to the stair case. 'Okay, so I don't really know where Arthur is either, but if I had to guess… knowing my brother he'd choose the meeting on the top floor!' he continued running up the stairs, his body never tiring or becoming strained. 'This would be so much easier if I had my sword again! Think Prussia, there has to be something around here I can use!' he continued spiraling ever upwards, determined to reach the top floor. 'This is a joke right? Shit, how can I be so off my usually awesome guard? I bet the other world powers still carry their weapons on them! Why couldn't I have…!' the idea had struck him like a slap across the face. 'The others! Their weapons—I'll just use theirs!'

Gilbert reached the top floor of the building and raised his yellow over his head. He walked into the hall, peering around himself and listening for any familiar voices behind the doors. He walked to the office at the very end, which had golden looped handles that one could pull the moderately heavy door open with. It was there that he heard his brother's voice.

Prussia froze, looking at the door as he listened to his brother's voice give a speech. Germany's stern tone rang out clear, never wavering or pausing for too long. He had heard this tone many times when the younger nation had tried to lecture him on his brother's faults or their problems. He felt a small smile trace his lips at the memory of Germany's baby blue eyes becoming stern and serious, before Gilbert would pick him up or tease him.

His red eyes remained on the door handle, frozen as he listened to the strong voice of Ludwig carry on with his speech, as if nothing were wrong, as if he hadn't lost a brother. Gilbert wondered if he had sounded so strong upon the next meeting after Prussia's death. Had he hidden it? Had he gone without delay?

Prussia bit his lip and snapped his mind out of his thoughts, reminding himself that he had more pressing problems to worry about. He pulled his hood over his head as he reached for the door, and opened it. He ignored his brother's voice as he peeked around for Arthur. Prussia groaned softly when he saw England sitting too far out of ear shot for him to warn. He closed the door once more and leaned against it, frowning as he tried to think of a sneaky and awesome spy move to pull off so that he could infiltrate without being noticed. Even then, whose weapon would he grab?

He peeked into the room once more, looking about for anyone he could secretly steal from. His eyes landed on Japan, who would normally have his Katanna with him. Yet Kiku sat there without his weapon at his side, as his country was not up in arms. He cursed softly and looked over to see Russia, who had leaned his metal pipe up against his chair.

'There's something, but I'd rather have fire power on my side. Let's see…'

He leaned even more one the door, opening it so he could see weapons from the others. His eyes widened when he saw the heavy artillery that Switzerland was packing. A large gun, roughly taller than the Nation when he was sitting, was strapped across his back. Prussia grinned, imagining the guts of the demonic beings being splattered across the walls with such fire power behind him.

'Oh man… that thing would be perfect! I'd bust in and that thing would be mine! H-hold on… as awesome as I am that gun is still on Switzerland's back, and he's nuts! I have to be smart about this, which is no problem because I'm a genius, but still I have to think hard…' he leaned forward more on the door as he thought. His red eyes peeked out from under the yellow edge of his hood as he stared at the large gun and psyched himself up to run for it.

'Alright, I'm ready!'

He ducked into the room as the others were staring at the front. Their eyes were either half-lidded, closed, or wandering around the room, each nation lost in their own world or paying the upmost attention to notice anything. Prussia hurriedly crawled under the long table, careful not to disturb another nation as he went. He crawled in silence, identifying each set of legs under the table as he went.

He suddenly came across the brown pants legs of America, and the white thin ones of Japan. He paused in his search; a wicked smile plaid across his lips.

Japan sat next to America diligently taking notes on Germanys presentation while the other Nation sipped on his soda. Japan didn't expect when he felt a hand on his backside suddenly. Surprised by physical contact, Japan jumped and turned to America.

"Please refrain from doing that." said Japan. America looked to him, arching an eyebrow. He looked to his soda and then back to Japan.

"What? This?"

"Do not play games. It's uncomfortable. I'm asking you nicely to please not do it again." And then he turned back and once more began taking notes. America shrugged and leaned back in his seat once more, setting his drink aside.

Prussia contained a snicker as he once more rubbed Japan's side flank. He heard Japan yelp at the touch, then heard the sound of a loud smack! America gave a cry in surprise!

"What the hell was that for?"

"I did warn you, America-san!"

Prussia forced along the tables as the argument between the nations began. He continued crawling carefully along, glad to find that the other nations were too busy focusing on the flustered shouting match between Japan and America to notice the little bumps along Gilbert's path. Finally he found England's legs and hurried over to him.

England sat watching the bickering continue and Germany trying to calm the fight down. He let out a breath, and leaned back in his seat.

'Honestly, that America can be so immature. And here I thought—

"Good lord!" England jumped and looked down. Two cold hands were set on his inner thighs as a set of red eyes were peeking back up at him. England wasn't sure what exactly had made him red in the face, his anger or the embarrassment of Gilbert's touch. He suddenly seized his white hair and shoved him back down, then ducked under the tablecloth himself. "What on earth are you doing here?" he hissed.

"I know you're mad, but hear me out. There's a huge demon looking for you out there, along with this tiny little gremlin that I can't friggin' catch! There are more on the way too! You can either come with me, or give me something to fight them off with."

"You're giving _me_ the ultimatum?"

"I'm the one fighting, so yea I think I get to call the shots here."

"You're insane! We'll be caught by the others because of you!"

"Not if you just chose quickly before we do." He frowned in response.

"Oh go on, get out of here and deal with the demon!"

"England!"

Arthur poked his head back up over the table, looking at Germany. The blonds' eyes were narrowed at him with anger.

"Vot is so interesting down there?"

"Nothing, I-erm, had to sneeze. I didn't want to get it all over the table."

"You sure it's not some kind of table fairy?" Jeered Romano.

"Quite sure, thank you." snapped England.

"Pay attention, this next point concerns your Nation as well." He ordered. Germany turned back to the board and began his speech once more, beginning to write out his points.

England felt the hands of Prussia once more on his inner thighs and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He tried to ignore the hidden man, but he persisted. Prussia gave a grin as he watched England struggle sit still. He continued to rub along his legs, hardly able to contain the laughter that was bubbling up inside of him form how Arthur was beginning to shift. He leaned over and bit him gently on the inner thigh, causing England to jump in surprise.

Arthur reached down and tried to swat Prussia away.

"S-stop it, go away!" he whispered.

"Not until you chose. Come with me out, or get me a gun."

"I-I can't do either of those things." He whispered harshly. Prussia began rubbing him once more, his hand wandering further and further up his thigh until—

He jumped, but bit his lip to keep his mouth shut. He shut his eyes, frustrated, then leaned forward and rested his head on the table as he spoke.

"What do I have to do to get you to leave me alone?"

"Create a distraction."

"What? No, absolutely—"

"England!" yelled Germany. Arthur paled as he looked back at Germany. "Vot are you doing?"

"I-I…" he turned to France, who was arching an eyebrow back at him. "What are _you_ doing?" he exclaimed. France's eyes widened in confusion. "So you think you have to out-do America by feeling up on me now?" he snapped.

"I didn't—"

Prussia bit England's inner thigh, and the nation gave a yelp and slapped France across the face without thinking. France stood up just as Prussia ducked back under the table.

"_Sacre blu_! I did not touch you! Why would I want to, you caterpillar brow!"

"You tell me, frog!" he exclaimed.

Another yelp occurred from the right of the room. Romano stood and slammed his fist into Spain's face.

"You son of a bitch!" the Italian yelled.

Spain held his bloodied nose and stuck out his hand.

"No, wait Romano, I didn't' do it!"

England arched and eyebrow and looked back under the table, where he saw Prussia shrugging back to him. England gave a flat look, the stood and watched as the perverse Spaniard and Romano began to argue between each other.

'He did do it…'

The other nations around them got dragged into the fight then! Russia was accidentally punched in the chest by Romano when Spain had ducked, sending the large Nation to begin his dangerous chant of 'kolkolkol' as he gripped his led pipe in his hands. Russia swung and Romano ducked, but Spain wasn't so lucky.

"Everybody—oi! Everybody! Sit down!" ordered Germany, but the fight only grew worse.

Amongst all the confusion, Prussia began sneaking about until he found exactly what he was looking for. As he expected, Switzerland had remained neutral in the fight, and remained sitting while others around him had grown antsy. He thought to himself, how was he going to get that rifle?

As luck would have it, he soon found that he didn't need Switzerland's rifle after all. The Nation had kept a pistol on his belt as well. Prussia grinned to himself, overjoyed with the thought of him holding a weapon once more.

Prussia leaned forward to Vash, his hand reaching for the gun. Vash, however, stood up and walked away from the table. Gilbert cursed silently and watched Switzerland walk out of the room. He frowned and began crawling around once more, looking for anything to use.

Meanwhile, England was dodging blows and jumping out of the way of wandering hands. He ended up bumping into America who looked back down at him with the same surprise.

"You alright?" asked America.

"Fine, no thanks to you."

"I didn't start this!" he defended.

"Right, sure you didn't. If you hadn't messed with Japan this never would have happened."

"I'm telling you, I didn't do it!"

"So what are you saying? Are you saying I'm lying, or worse, crazy?" he felt his face go red then. "Is that it? Say it! Tell me I'm crazy! That's what you think, isn't it?"

"That's not fair, you're putting words in my mouth!"

"High time somebody should, you can't even speak proper English!"

"Not you're attacking the way I speak?" he threw up his hands. "There's just no winning with you! You know what, Iggy, maybe you are crazy. What were you doing earlier? Talking to you imaginary—"

"If you finish that sentence then so help me God—!" he held up his fist but America pushed it away.

"I didn't touch Japan!"

"You liar!" he yelled. In the back of England's mind he began to suspect Prussia for the crime, but he was too angry to care. "You're a two faced, blind, lying brat!"

"Oh, America and England are fighting now, da?" came the voice of Russia. He towered over them, looking down with his led pipe clenched in hand. "Why don't you stop this quarreling and just become one with me?"

"No way!" they both yelled back.

"A pity." sighed Russia. "Why don't I convince you both." He raised his led pipe in the air, both America and England watched it with paled faces.

'He's still on about that?' they thought.

America reached for his gun, but Russia swung first. Two large, bear sized fists swung downward, ready to crack the pipe over England's head—but nothing happened! Indeed, Russia's fists swung past England with nothing in them. Russia gasped and looked to his hands, then turned behind him. "Who dared to steal my pipe?" his voice bellowed out. He looked but saw no one holding his pipe. "I'll find you and break you!" he darted away, leaving England and America to let out a breath in relief.

Gilbert let out a breath and clutched the pipe in hand.

'Okay, this won't do as a weapon for me, but I'm not letting it hit Arthur.' He thought. He abandoned the pipe and began crawling away to a different place. 'Come on, come on, gotta think!' he grit his teeth as he crawled. He heard a voice cry out just then and peek out from under the table cloth. 'Ah! West! I just know that he's packing some heat."

Germany tried everything he could to break up the fighting, which had turned from arguments over a simple touch, to arguments over politics and economic disasters. He pulled people apart, yelled and ordered for them to be quiet— he even went so far as threaten— but his voice fell on deaf ears. His harsh baby blue eyes landed on England just then, who was trying to exit the room.

"England!" Germany yelled out. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Me? I—erm I was just—"

Germany stormed over to him, and before he could object, Arthur had been grabbed by his collar and forced to look into Germany's eyes.

"You had better fix this, or I'll be sure to _fix_ you and your imaginary nonsence!" he threatened.

"Me? I didn't start this! Spain and Romano— a-and France were the ones who—"

Germany suddenly gave a yelp, and stiffened up right suddenly! Let go of England and turned around to confront the culprit who had grabbed him. In that same moment Prussia ducked up between them and grabbed Arthur! He gave him a swift kiss and pulled away to wink at him. England just barely registered the gun that Prussia held up, due to the giddy and dizzy feeling he was experiencing as his face turned red. Prussia then ducked as soon as Germany turned back. England forced himself to keep his gaze on Germany, but he was wide-eyed and breathing heavy. Ludwig raised an eyebrow at him in question, but then returned to frowning.

"As I said," he growled, "Fix ziz fight, now." His anger had forced him to slip back into his harsh accent.

"I can't!" England exclaimed. Germany seemed go grow angrier at this statement. "I-I mean— if you can't then what makes you think I can?"

A sharp pain ran through England's shoulder just then, like a hot knife on sensitive flesh. Startled, England yelled and held his shoulder. He looked back up to Germany, who didn't' look convinced and merely had raised an eyebrow.

"Not ziz again." He muttered.

"No, no!" said England, "I just hurt my shoulder and…" suddenly the world did a vertical 360 around him, and he felt his stomach lurch.

"I am talking to you!" yelled Germany. "Vot is the matter with you that you can't come to one meeting and not— Gah! Italy!" Germany was suddenly distracted by Italy hiding under his shirt.

"Doitsu! Doitsu! Help me! Brother France is trying to get me!" he cried out.

"Mon ami, just accept that you and I are to be together."

"Those times are long over, France!" yelled Germany. "Go avay! I am trying to talk to England!"

England in the meantime had leaned himself against the wall, holding his shoulder that throbbed horribly. He felt his uniform material become soaked with blood suddenly.

'_England… England… come to me. Come home to me.'_

Arthur shook his head, as if to try and shake the voice off. He felt the ghost of a touch across his cheek, like fingers tracing his jaw line.

'_I'm waiting, England. Always waiting.'_

"Go away…!" he whispered harshly. "You're not getting me."

'_One way or another you will be mine. You'll be ever so happy. Never alone, you'll never be alone again.'_

"Be quiet! Be quiet!"

"England!" yelled Germany.

"England!" yelled out America.

The other two Nations turned to watch him approach them. "What is going on with you now?" he asked sternly, looking to Arthur.

He raised his green eyes to look at them, their angered faces staring back at him.

"Just look at the trouble you caused!" yelled Germany. "Who is going to fix ziz?"

"Like I said, I wasn't the one who…"

"Just give it up England." said America. "Please, stop this."

"You stay out of this—ah!" he held his shoulder tighter. He felt America's hand on him then and looked up into his sky blue eyes.

"England, what's wrong?"

From the door that England was leaned against, someone had begun to bang harshly on it. The world once more turned about England, and he felt he could no longer stand, much less hold what little breakfast he still had in his stomach. His shoulder throbbed horribly, and he couldn't hardly think any longer.

"Hey, careful there." said America. Another set of vicious bangs sounded, and England leaned away from the door.

"Whose there?" barked Germany.

"I-I don't think we should open it." said England, holding his head in his hand. His body was falling to the side without him realizing it. America caught him right then.

"England, you're shoulder!" exclaimed America. Arthur had bleed through the right side of his uniform, and the stain was only growing bigger. "It looks bad. Come here, and let me take a look."

The loud bangs started up once more, and then there even came the sounds of snarling.

England was pulled away from the door by America suddenly, and Germany went to open it. America pulled England away, trying to get him to tell him why his wound hadn't healed.

"No—the door! Don't do it!"

"You're acting crazy again." America shushed him. "Just calm down, tell me how this happened. Was it Prussia?" he asked quietly, in an attempt to sooth the other Nation.

Arthur looked past him watching Germany with dread.

"No! Don't do it!" pleaded Arthur.

'_Shh now, it'll all be over with soon.' _cooed the silky smooth voice._ 'Come… come…sleep again and fall into me._'

Arthur's struggling stopped suddenly, his world went black, and he fell in America's arms.

In that same moment Germany opened the door.

"Who is it? What do you—"

A great black beast lunged forward as soon as the door had cracked open. It shoved Germany to the floor and let out a set of barks and snapped its jaws at America and England. Everyone in the room turned to where the sounds had come from, but only saw that Germany was on the floor, and that England was suddenly passed out.

"What was that?" yelled France.

"Did I hear a dog just now?" Spain wondered.

"Germany-san, are you alright?" came Japan.

Others began crowding around the door, but froze when they heard another set of vicious barking and snarling.

The beast shook it's head, snorting as it tried to figure out which sent was the delicious one that had attracted it there. America could not see the danger standing in front of them, and could only look around wildly, trying to make sense of the disembodied barks and howls. The beast locked eyes on England, and smelled the wonderful rot that come bleeding from the wound. It howled and ran for England. It's jaws opened wide as it leapt up for Alfred and Arthur.

A gun shot rang through the air, followed by another one, and another one! Blood appeared out of thin air in front of the Nation's eyes; it coated the walls and carpet! Everyone looked around for where the source of the noise had come from.

America looked to his arms, and with a sudden jolt of shock and confusion he discovered that Arthur was missing! He looked around, worried that the unconscious Nation had fallen on the floor.

"Mama mia!" cried the Italy twins.

America whipped his head around and looked up at the figure dressed in a yellow hoodie. England was held in his arms, the gun still pointed at where the blood was.

Germany looked up to the figure from where he lay on the floor. He could just barley see the wisps of white that poked out from underneath the stranger's hood. The figure turned his head to look down at him.

"It can't be…" Germany spoke, amazed.

In the next moment the stranger held the gun pointed up, and flashed them all a very familiar grin.

"H-Hey! Just who the hell are you?" America yelled out. "Put Iggy down, you!"

The stranger merely threw England over his shoulder, and leapt down from the table. He held the gun up once more and began waving it around the room. The Nation yelled and ducked, running to hide. Some were already reaching for their own weapons at this point.

The stranger fired once more into seemingly thin air. The sound of something small dying rang out, and blood covered the front wall and the white board. In the blood one could just barely make out the outline of something tiny with wings, like a gremlin.

Stunned and scared, the other Nations said nothing as they looked from the blood to the stranger.

Italy was the first to pipe up, pointing to England and the stranger as he cried out.

"Ve! Look! England is bleeding!"

"Put our friend down!" Demanded China, "Or you'll have my wok to face, aru!"

The stranger stared back at them for a moment, and suddenly his lips curled up.

'It's like the old days again…' thought Prussia.

"Are you deaf! Put him down!" America demanded.

'The glorious old days...' he gripped England tighter as he sifted the dead weight into both of his arms rather than on his shoulder. He began to back away slowly, watching and the Nations began to approach him with wary. 'Today everyone here will see—England has been captured by the glorious me!'

The hooded man let out a hearty laugh, stunning the others around him! He turned and fled the room.

Germany had stood up only to be shoved by the stranger. Germany reached out past the door to stop the man.

"Vere do you think you're—" He reached out and grabbed the stranger's shoulder, but his hand was knocked off. Red eyes peeked out from under the hood and stared back at him dangerously. Germany stood stunned and could only watch as Prussia ran down the hall. Prussia opened the door to the fire escape, then turned his head back to Germany. The disguised Prussian held a single finger up to his lips, as if to say 'shh', before ducking into the stair case. The others were at the door in that instant and flooded in to the hall.

"Where is that bastard!" demanded America, his colt 22 already drawn and ready.

"Don't let him get away!" yelled out Spain. "He interrupted out meeting and kidnapped England!"

"He…" Germany hesitated a moment, but then straightened up. "He went that way." Germany directed them in the opposite direction. The others ran after America, bearing weapons from their homeland or cracking their knuckles.

Germany watched them disappear out of sight, then turned his attention back to the door where Prussia had escaped to.

"He didn't really go that way, didn't he?" asked the light voice of Italy. "You sent the others away." Germany's eyes widened and he turned to look down at the smiling Nation. "It's alright I won't tell anyone. You should go after them though, since he's your brother and everything. And he did our friend kidnap England."

"Italy…" the German's gaze softened. "How did you know?"

"I saw his eyes from where I was cowering under the table during all of the fighting." he smiled. "Better catch up with him, he's getting away."

Germany drew his friend into a hug before he turned and made a mad dash down the hall and to the fire exit.

'Mein gott, bruder—how did you get here, and what crazy thing have you gotten yourself into?'

888

A.N:

Wow, it's been a while, hasn't it? School has been going good so I've had time to write—thankfully. I hope no one has grown bored waiting for this chapter! So the main bad guy's name is finally revealed at last. _The Grey_. Who are they and what do they want with Arthur? I loved writing Prussia's mischief. Anyway, I'm off to go write more and possibly draw some PrussXEng art!


	14. The Wall

The Wall

By Eden Killinger

Prussia ran down the stairs in a hurry with the unconscious England in his arms. He couldn't help but revel in the rush of excitement coursing through him since he snatched England from the arms of America. The faces of the other Nations as they stared up at him in both surprise and awe filled him with pride. Had it not been for his promise to England about hiding his identity, nothing would have kept him from showing the world exactly who had singlehandedly slain the monsters and stole England away!

He reached the bottom floor and ran into the lobby but doubled back and hid behind the door. Several various creatures were trailing around the lobby, alert and on the lookout for any sign of Arthur. The heavy creatures stalked around the citizens, who were oblivious to their presence. Prussia watched them, surprised to see that they were monsters he recognized from drawings and paintings of demons from around Germany; from winged creatures, to bipedal ogres wielding large spiked clubs. Each demon looked fierce and strong, and Prussia knew he only had a few bullets left to fight with.

'_Mein Gott_— they're everywhere! How'd they get here so fast?' Prussia grit his teeth in frustration as he thought. 'How do I get Arthur out of here without being seen by those things…?'

As if on cue, Gilbert heard the sound of multiple chimes of the elevator. Loud cries of anger and shouts filled the lobby as the Nations ran through the lobby. The demons and monsters watched the Nations, looking hither and thither, confused by the sudden outburst of anger and spirit. The Nations looked for their missing friend, separating and running about the lobby.

"Arthur!" called out Estonia. "Arthur, answer us!"

"Where the hell is the bastard that took him?" growled Romano. "I'll shove tomatoes down his throat until he chokes!"

"I'm the Hero," called America, "So I say we split up and search every corner for that guy! Go, now!"

With no other plans presented, the other Nations followed America's word and scattered about, searching every corner for the lobby for the kidnapper. Without knowing it, they were also ramming into, pushing aside, and stepping on the demons that were also on the lookout for Prussia and England!

Russia and Romano had knocked over a large demon. Sprain and France were keeping a lookout on top of a nasty looking troll, squishing the life out of it. Even China and Japan had unknowingly knocked out two bat-like creatures with their running about. The commotion of the Nations caused the citizens of Germany to run out of their way, which also caused them to knock in to the monsters. Panic and chaos ensued on a scale that Prussia hadn't yet seen in this modern world as the Nations began to weak havoc in search for their friend.

Prussia's eyes widened and he gave a wide grin. The chaos he caused could not have played out more in his favor than it did right then. With the monsters looking about in a frenzy from the chaos, Prussia found his opportunity to slip out. People ran around like chickens with their heads cut off from the mob of people who had suddenly appeared. Prussia ducked low in the crowds, making a straight bee-line to the revolving door.

"Stop!" came the commanding voice of Germany over the screams and yells.

Prussia couldn't stop himself from turning around. He saw Germany from the stairway he had just ducked out of and was running his way.

Prussia felt a slight twinge of panic from being spotted; he turned and sprinted to the revolving door.

He burst through it and turned down the street, running out with a crowd of citizens who were fleeing in terror. He ran along the street, hearing sirens in the distance slowly approaching. He realized that the sight of him holding a bloodied and unconscious man in his arms would not be a sight any officer would over look so easily. He hurriedly ducked into an ally way and ran down it, listening as the sirens passed by.

'That was too close, West almost caught up to me.' He let out a breath. 'Now the only problem is that I don't know where to go now,' He looked down to Arthur. The Nation was grimacing in pain and just beginning to shiver. 'I need to get him somewhere safe, and fast.'

He walked out of the ally way and onto the empty street. He poked his head out from behind the veil of darkness, then continued to walk out. All was silent, and yet Prussia felt as though something were around the two of them. His uneasiness intensified the more steps he took, and with Arthur hurt he became unwilling to take any more chances. He left and hurried back into the cover of darkness, yet this did nothing to stop the presence. He was crossing the pathway and onto the other street when a figure stepped in his way. The lights on the streets were just barely able to reveal Ludwig's face as he stared at him.

Gilbert froze on the spot, his younger brother's almost sad eye trapping him in their gaze, yet he became suspicious of who it might really be who stood in front of him, it could be a demon trying to lure him into a false sense of security. He still felt the heavy presence of a demon, and it could very well be a trap. With that thought in mind, he reluctantly raised his brother's own weapon and aimed it to him. He yelled at him in their native tongue, German.

"Stay back!"

"Brother… East, is that you," asked Germany, replying in the same language. He took cautious steps forward. "I… don't believe… brother can it really be you?"

"Are you def, I said stay back! Don't come any closer!"

Germany froze and instantly put his hands up in the air. They were silent, and Gilbert began taking steps back. The pained look on Germany's face was almost more than he could stand to look at, but dared not turn away.

"I don't understand… brother, what's going on? How… how can you even be here?"

"What's going on is that England and I are leaving. Just stay there, don't move, and you won't get hurt."

Germany could see the blood that stained Prussia's yellow hoodie.

"He's hurt, we should get him help—"

"I am helping him! I helping him by keeping him safe! I have him, so leave us!"

Germany once more took careful steps towards him. The brother's eyes were fixed on each other's.

"I don't know what's going on, or what even happened back in the meeting, or why Arthur is even bleeding now—"

"West, stay back! I'm warning you—"

"But if we don't do something Arthur may die. Give him to me, and I'll find him help."

Prussia kept his eyes on the person in front of him, wondering silently if it really was his brother or not. Questions circulated in his mind, the hand that held the gun began to shake as his younger brother drew closer, a hand reaching out for Arthur.

"If you give him to me, I will find help for him and you can run away— "

"I can't."

"Why?"

Prussia spoke not a word, feeling the demonic presence even nearer to him and England at that moment. It were as though it were on top of them already, the air became thick with tension. His hand stopped shaking then, and he put his finger to the trigger.

"You tell me."

A scream, a shrill cry like that of a mother whose lost her baby, tore through the air. Something fell from the roof tops, screaming as it landed in the feet between the brothers. Both men stumbled backwards in alarm. A haggard looking old woman, stood before them. Her nose poked out from behind her shaggy grey hair that covered nearly half her body and her face. She turned her entire being to Prussia.

"_Ahh…! There he is."_

"Stay back!" Prussia ordered, the gun now aimed to her.

Ludwig had heard the horrid scream the Banshee had made, but saw nothing before them. He franticly looked about for the source of the chilling noise.

"Where did that scream come from?" asked Ludwig. He turned back to his brother, who was looking angrily down at what Ludwig thought to be his waist. "Hey, did you hear me?"

"_Give him to me… give him to me…" _cackled the banshee_._

"I'll blast your head in if you take one more step!"

"Gilbert?" wondered Ludwig. He was interrupted when the loud howl of someone or something tore through the air again! Prussia fired the gun the held, then was suddenly knocked to his feet by some invisible force.

The banshee placed her bare, dirty foot over Prussia's face as she tried to pry Arthur from his grasp.

Arthur suddenly gave a yell when the Banshee placed her hands on him.

"_He still smells rotted and fresh for pickings!"_ it cackled. "_Let him go you foul-smelling thing! I need this one!"_

She stomped her foot harshly on Prussia's face, breaking his nose.

Ludwig could see his older brother's nose be broken in by some invisible force and heard a sick crunch! He cringed and froze, he was too stunned to try and do anything, too busy trying to figure out what was going on. Prussia couldn't lift his gun enough without letting go of England, all he could do was hold tight.

The two of them rolled around on the ground, each one struggling to gain possession of Arthur. The Banshee screamed a wailed, making the most unpleasant noises anyone there had ever heard! Ludwig covered his ears in pain and looked back to Prussia, whose face was a mix between anger and panic as he swung his fist and tried to fend off whatever it was that was on him.

When he felt he couldn't stand watching any longer, Germany ran over to his brother's side.

"What is it, I—I can't see it!"

"West!" Prussia managed to yell. "Stay back, it's got—"

The Banshee lashed out at West with its long sharp fingernails. They were sharp as eagle talons, and drew blood when they scrapped against Ludwig's shoulder and down his chest.

Germany gave a cry in surprise and withdrew from the fight, holding his chest in shock.

"West!" cried Prussia. He turned his attention back to the Banshee, rage in his eyes. "No one knocks on my little brother but me!" he lifted his fist to swing at the creature, but it once more stomped its foot into his face.

"_Give him to me! I want my wish! Give him to me!"_ she screamed and wailed at the top of her lungs! Prussia's ears rang horribly, he grit his teeth in pain.

Then suddenly the noise stopped!

Prussia opened his eyes, holding Arthur close in case it was a trick. Ludwig stood over his brother, his fists waved about wildly, blindly throwing them to hit whatever was making the horrid noise. Prussia stared up at Ludwig, who was looked pale and frantic, huffing as he continued to abuse the air.

"Did I get it? Whatever it was—did I get it? That noise was horrid!"

Stunned, Prussia said nothing for a moment, but his shock soon gave way to laughs of relief. He continued to laugh, holding England tightly to him as he held the man's head.

"Thank God… thank God, you are Germany…"

"What? Of course it's me! Who else would it be? I should be the one asking you that—"

Germany was interrupted by Prussia thrusting out his hand to be helped up. Germany let out his breath and took his brother's hand, hoisting him back to his feet.

"I had to be sure, there are things after us right now," he offered the almost lifeless body of Arthur to Germany, who took him in his arms. He immediately loosened his tie and bunched it in his hand. He pressed the fabric underneath England's suit and against his wound.

"Things…? Things like what every that was?"

Prussia nodded.

"The demon isn't gone yet," his eyes were staring down at what Germany through was empty ground.

The Banshee rose to her feet, hunched over from the large lump in her back. She snarled and gave out another scream.

"_Give him to me, foul-thing! I want my wish!"_

"For what? A face that only looks half as ugly?"

"For _my baby!"_

With that the demon leapt up and reached her claws out for the two of them.

Ludwig turned to where he heard the noise come from, but could only stare at nothing. The screams were upon them, and Germany was almost certain that he'd be mauled by the invisible wily demon. A gunshot sounded, and suddenly Ludwig felt blood cover his front. He turned to see his brother with the smoking gun, staring at the ground with wide eyes. Silence hung in the air.

"Did you… is it…" Ludwig began, but found his words failed him. He turned to see blood seeping out from nowhere and pooling out around his feet. He stepped back before it could stain his shoes. "What was that?"

"Don't know. Don't care," he turned away from the bloody mess and walked away. A horrible feeling began to sink in his stomach from the creature's last words. He pushed the unpleasant thought out of his mind as he turned back to his brother. "There are more like that thing on the way."

"_My God- _Gilbert! I demand en explanation!"

"You'd never believe me."  
"Yes, I would! How could I not, you're my brother!"

"If you didn't believe England, why would you believe me?"

Tension hung in the air between the two, then Germany looked down to Arthur.

"You say you need to protect him?"

Prussia nodded.

"Well, then think of him as my hostage," he stepped away from Prussia. The former Nation only raised an eyebrow as he listened to Germany. "You will accompany me to our house where we can treat Arthur. Then you will tell me the entire situation and leave nothing out. Understood?" his eyes narrowed.

Prussia eyed him for a moment, then gave a nod.

"Understood, West."

The two suddenly heard the other Nations yelling out for them. They dropped their stern dispositions and looked to the busy street with paled faces.

"Run." whispered Prussia.

"My car is parked in the back, let's go." Germany followed close behind him.

888

An hour passed in silence before Germany pulled up to his home. Prussia recognized it instantly, it hadn't hardly changed since he had seen it last with his living eyes. He smiled, though he felt he had almost nothing to smile about at that moment. Their situation was grim, Arthur was badly hurt, and a demon could be on their tails, yet Prussia somehow found the strength inside him to smile.

"Ah, home." Prussia said, speaking once more in his native tongue of German.

Ludwig turned back to him, an eyebrow raised.

"Your tone is misplaced, brother," he replied in the same tongue, "Let's get him inside."

Prussia followed Germany's motion of getting out of the car. He had been in the back with Arthur, making sure nothing else went wrong with him. He had been still and silent the entire way, making the brother's nervous of his condition.

They stepped into the wooden home, the floor making a slight creaking noise as they stepped over the thresh hold. The musty smell filled Gilbert's nose, and he looked around the familiar living room. He remembered the large blue couch with the white doily over its top back half. The rug was red with white designs circling and weaving about. A large blue chair had been set just to the left of the couch. Directly ahead from the front door was a door way leading to the kitchen, a doorway to the left lead to the hall where the stairs were located. Nothing had changed according to what Prussia remembered.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he felt the weight of Arthur shift back on top of him. Germany had left his inside and made a bee-line for the television and turned it on. He picked up the remote and immediately put the volume on mute and began flipping through the channels.

"Hello, brother? I've got a bleeding England in my arms."

"The best way to monitor England's heath is to make sure nothing drastic has happened on his soil, or have you forgotten what our bodies are comprised of?"

He walked back over to him and aided Prussia by slinging England's arm over his shoulders and taking the weight.

"We should keep him close, here in the living room is good. Later, he can sleep in your room."

"You kept it a room?" Prussia asked, humor in his voice. "That's sentimental of you."

Germany didn't respond and only carried England to the couch. England gave a soft groan and mumbled softly, Germany could just barely hear what he was saying. They laid him on the couch, Prussia was once more by his side.

"We're here, Arthur. You're safe now."

"I'll go fetch some bandages and fresh cloths for him," said Germany. He turned and walked away from his brother, who didn't say a word to him and was busy tending to England. He returned from the upstairs of his home moments later with the bandages and antiseptic in hand. He had cleaned himself up while he had been upstairs. Wounds treated, he put on a new shirt and a tan sweater over it. He was about to walk into his living room from the hall when he heard his brother's voice. Wondering if England was awake, he decided to wait a moment in case Prussia were to say anything he would have kept hidden in front of him.

"Jeeze, I can't take you anywhere, you know that," Prussia chuckled softly. He was grabbing Arthur's hand in a gentle squeeze. From where Germany stood it seemed as though England was still unconscious, yet his brother continued to speak. "And you say I'm the one that's hard to manage? Now I know why you're single, you're hard to keep up with. It takes a dead man to do what a live one can't, and— ironically— that's live through all of this."

There came another pause.

Something was different about Gilbert, Ludwig could see a gentleness in his brother that he had never seen before. His red eyes that had once burned with a fighting passion had now softened to a lover's gaze. He had become soft, somehow, and with that Germany now wondered just where his brother had been and what he had gone through to come back.

Ludwig entered the room with the bandages in hand. He took a seat and watched Gilbert untie the old bandages, revealing a large and nasty gash on England's back. Germany gasped involuntarily when he saw the wound.

"_Mein gott…"_

Prussia ignored his brother, noting that a pattern had begun to form on Arthur's skin. It resembled curling smoke, black, and seemed to seep outward from the tear. He just barely heard his brother whisper to himself in disbelief.

"What is that?"

"I don't know, but I think it has something to do with Arthur's curse," he then swore silently to himself, his hand reaching for Arthur's. "_Gott_… We're running out of time."

"Time for what?"

"Never mind."

"You said you would explain everything."

"I will… I just… I just need to help him first."

Gilbert went to work on dressing Arthur's wound and bandaging him. Ludwig watched Arthur shiver and could only assume that he had come down with a fever.

When Gilbert was finished, Ludwig handed his a damp cloth to whip the blood off his hands.

"Thanks."

Ludwig nodded back.

"It's been one hell of a day, West," Gilbert stood and lifted Arthur up so that he would have a place on the couch. Arthur's head rested in his lap, and he was gently stroking his blond locks. "I thought that it was all over when that Banshee attacked. Thanks for saving us."

"You will give me an explanation now, wont you?"

"I guess…" he was smiling as he looked down to Arthur. He was without a care in the world for that moment it seemed, but Ludwig could not see the worry that was buried deep within Prussia's heart. Ludwig's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, hoping to catch Gilbert's attention with his gaze.

"You don't seem to have any right to grin after what just happened."

Gilbert, sensing the threatening tone in his brother's voice, frowned and eyed him.

"After all," continued Ludwig, "You interrupted a very important meeting, opened fire on _invisible creatures_, and kidnapped a Nation in broad day light. If I tell the other Nations who it was, they will not look too kindly on your actions."

"Oh...? Why the sudden hostility," Gilbert's smile turned to a smirk. "I thought family protected their own?"

Ludwig seemed taken aback for only a moment, seeing that his threat didn't work.

"Besides," continued Gilbert, "People think I'm dead don't they? Oh no wait… they don't."

Ludwig waved him off, and quickly changed the subject.

"Let's say that I believe any of this nonsense, that there really are ghosts and monsters following you two around, then what? They'll come after me in my home now, won't they?"

Gilbert leaned back, looking at Ludwig with zero expression as he eyed him.

"Something's come over you suddenly… shock? No, you're too in the dark for that… guilt maybe?"

"You're the one who started this game, saying _I guess_ when I demanded an explanation. I'm warning you about what will happen if you don't make sense of everything that's been going on."

"As shrewd and ruthless as ever, Germany. I knew that under that up-tight exterior you were still the same Nazi—"

"We will not speak of such things! An explanation, or get out of my house."

"Touchy… remember it was you who practically twisted my arm to get me here." he went silent, then looked out the window and considered what to do next.

After a moment he sat up straight and positioned himself in the light of the moon. Its un-earthy glow showed the grime, dirt, and blood that stained him from rolling around in the ally. His face was pale, and his eyes were full of vibrancy and passion. He looked somehow alive in this war torn look, like a solder come back from the dead and about to revel in the glory days. Suddenly and without warning, Prussia tilted his head back and opened let loose a victorious laugh .

"_KE-SESESESE_!"

Ludwig's brow furrowed, and he grew tense.

"What is the meaning of laughing at me?" he demanded.

"All the answer you need is that I'm awesome and defeated death." He folded his arms. Germany stared at him for a moment, before rising to his feet.

"That is not an answer I want to hear!" he yelled. "_Why are you here? Why are you back_?"

"You really want to know that," there suddenly appeared a devilish gleam in his eyes, cast from the moon's glow. "Are you sure you can handle it?"

"Of course!"

"Alright then, but first you have to swear your loyalty to me."

Germany stared at him, suspiciously.

"Why?"

"Promise me," urged Prussia, growing serious, "promise me, because England is in danger now… and I don't think I can do this on my own. I need to know that I still have a brother to watch my back, even after he finds what he's gotten himself into."

Ludwig was once more stunned by the change in his brother. The stoic image before him was not the Prussia before his death, but of the Teutonic Knight that upheld honor and a warrior's code. He turned away, allowing a breath of amazement just barely escape his lips as he considered.

"Alright, you win. I swear my loyalty to you. I will help in any way I can."

"Thank you. I know that this is hard, because as awesome as I am I can't really believe that I'm back either."

Ludwig looked back to Prussia, awaiting an explanation. Prussia sat back and rest his head on his fist.

"Right, before I can explain anything I want you to fill in a few blanks for me. My memory about my… last day isn't so great, and I have a few questions for you as well. The last thing I can remember is laying down to fall asleep. I was just going to nap."

Ludwig's expression fell, and he turned his gaze to the ground as he considered what to say. He turned his attention back to Prussia, looking uncomfortable as he spoke.

"_Ja_, you had said you weren't feeling well that day… you had grown weaker," he paused to look down to the floor. "I remember the day the alliance had stripped you of your name, though I wish I didn't. The… agony, you must have felt so…" he winced at the thought and bit his lip. Gilbert cast his gaze to the floor as the memory came swimming back to him.

The moment the deal had been finished and the sentence ruled, a pain had shot through Gilbert's very core. He felt as though someone had taken a carving knife and plunged it through him. His country, the beating heart of his land, stopped beating for a moment. Death had not come then, though Gilbert wished it had. Quickly, by his own brother, his core had been renamed as East Berlin, and his body was to serve as the other half of Germany. Like the Italian twins, Germany now had two represenetives, but the pain didn't stop then either.

Prussia was divided for other countries to lay claim to, taking and owning whatever it was they thought they had rights to. The pain of the land being claimed by others felt as if he himself were being torn asunder limb from limb, yet even so he had managed to sit quietly through the auction, for the humiliation was even more crippling.

When everything had eventually been settled, his body was left with many scars of his countries division that would run deep in him, but the pain of no longer being a country would prove the worst.

"Yes… I remember now."

"You wouldn't eat, you always slept… I could never get you to go out or to talk business let alone hold a conversation about the weather."

"The skies were grey back then."

"The skies are always grey."

Ludwig stood and walked to the kitchen. Gilbert watched him leave, knowing exactly what his brother had in mind. He heard the familiar sound of a fridge opening, bottles softly clinked together, then a faint pop and clatter of the metal tops. His brother returned and offered him a beer. Gilbert took the cold glass in hand and brought it to his lips. He couldn't remember the last time he had a cold beer, and felt so very comforted by the taste of hopps and malt passing over his tongue. He stopped after a few sips and looked back to Ludwig, who was staring at his bottle.

"Should I keep talking?"

"Tell me about… the next day."

"What day?"

"After you found… discovered I wasn't' napping."

"Why are you making me do this?"

Ludwig set his beer aside and rubbed his eyes in frustration. He stopped but held his head, his gaze to the ground as he pondered. A few more moments went by before he gathered enough courage to look back to his brother.

"When I found you… When I saw you laying there… I thought you were asleep, of course. How could I not? You were so dead to the world already that all I had in mind was the meeting I had to attend with you. So I shook you and told you to get up. Then I shook you again, this time I called you something, I can't remember what. I shook again, and again, and I thought… no, I… I didn't think anything. I just kept shaking you, yelling at you. I said it wasn't' funny… I called you a rotten bastard—that I remember."

Ludwig turned his head and looked out the window, his pale blue eyes searching for relief from the painful memory. He seemed to find none and merely closed his eyes as his shoulders began to tremble.

"I… I don't know what you want me to say here. I lost my brother… on that day I lost my brother and I cried."

While Gilbert could see the pain, hear it in his brother's voice, he did not allow himself to empathize just yet.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Why… why, he wants to know why…"

Ludwig grabbed the bottle off the table and took another long swig of beer, the taste soothing him more than the amount of alcohol could. He put the cold bottle to his head, his brow knitted together as he thought. Gilbert leaned forward, careful not to squish Arthur in the process.

"Why didn't you tell anyone, Ludwig?"

He asked again, his tone sharp and stern, causing his brother to wince. Ludwig covered his face as he shoulders began to tremble once more.

"Were you ashamed of your older brother? Did you think I was undeserving of memorial, of memory? Or was it _you_ that _killed_ me?"

Ludwig suddenly shot back up out of his hand, his pale blue eyes full of shock. He seemed to want to protest, but his mouth only opened and closed once or twice, like a cod desperately gasping for air.

Gilbert glared at him, still, quiet, waiting for a response. Ludwig shook his head slowly and he regained the ability to speak.

"Brother… how-how can you think…? You're serious?"

"Of course I am. You said so yourself, I was dead to the world already. You couldn't speak to me, couldn't even hold a conversation. You had to drag me to every local meeting, force me to eat—I was dead weight to you."

"I would never think to—"

"I've been alive for little over a week now, and the wheels have been turning in my head going round and round, thinking about my _loving_ little brother— who had first abolished me— and why it is he said nothing."

"The abolishment was— I never meant to— I did not share the views of my leader!"

"Then why, Ludwig? Why does no one know? Why did you cover me up?"  
"No I—"

"Sweep me under the rug?"

"Listen please—"

"Bury me without a grave?"  
"I… I…" he bowed his head and fell to his knees. Sobs, like that of which Gilbert had never heard his brother even utter, came pouring out of the man then. "I didn't kill you, my dear brother," he cried, "A part of me had died that very day when they stripped you of your pride. Each day I died all over again when I saw what they did to you, what you had become!"

His hands fell to his lap and he looked straight to Gilbert.

"You are my only brother, the very nation I had aspired to be. I could never kill you, because it would be as though I were killing myself!"

Ludwig sobbed into his hands, and Gilbert felt as though he could do nothing but watch the agony he had wrought over his younger brother. He turned his head away and looked to the sky. He heard Ludwig calm down and heard him take his hands off of his face.

"In fact I thought that that day was my last as well. I thought that day that I had died too. My hopes, my aspirations of becoming great in the world, my love for my people… it didn't matter anymore. My people had done horrible things… inhumane. My government had allowed too much to go wrong, and I couldn't see it until I had everything taken away from me. Then I thought… I thought with you… I could turn my life around. Make good. Create a Berlin that people could be proud of. Rebuild East with the same pride, power, and heart as Prussia."

He ran a hand through his hair, causing the blond locks to fall out of place and a few strands to hand in front of his eyes. He sniffed and looked to Gilbert.

"I was ashamed, you're right, but not of you. Never of you, dear brother. I was ashamed that with my hands I could only destroy, be a monster, and let die the things I loved most. I hid… like a coward I hid your death because I couldn't take the pressure from other countries that I had let another die within my borders. They'd call me monster, they would think I killed you, there'd be no way of saving myself then."

He closed his eyes and pointed his face to the ceiling, as if asking for some kind of redemption. Slowly his hands rose from his lap and once more trailed down his face, bringing his head down with it as the thoughts swam around in his mind.

"God help me."

Everything went quiet. No more screams, nor more sobs, and hardly anyone even breathed. Prussia's gaze returned to his brother. Tears had formed in his eyes, but he dare not let them fall from his face.

"So that's it then? My brother is a coward?"

Ludwig said nothing. He turned and grabbed his beer, holding it gently like new born chick. He stood quietly and headed for the stair way.

"Didn't you want an explanation?"

The German turned and looked down at him, his eyes so filled with grief and sadness.

"Suddenly… suddenly I don't want to know."

"You never could finish what you started."

"At least I did not give up on life and leave my brother to clean up the mess."

"Coward!"

"Same to you!"

Ludwig threw the bottle down, it shattered all over the floor. He looked to Gilbert angrily.

"You're right in saying that I am a coward—I was! I let a sick man rule my people, do horrendous things and lead us into poverty because I was afraid and wanted change, but you…"

"…Me, little brother? Me? Go on, I want to hear it."

"You—gave—up!"

"Angry at me too, huh?"

"Why are you back?"

"Now you want to know."

"How are you alive? Are you some kind of ghost, come back to haunt me?" he mocked cruelly

"I was needed, so I came back."

"Did you spring up from the ground, dust the dirt off your shoulders and walk away? I want answers, I want to know why!"

"Now you want to know."

"Tell me!"

Prussia lifted himself off the couch, gentle so as not to disturb Arthur. He stood across form Ludwig, his eyes narrowed.

"Why? You forgot about me, hid away your failure so you could continue to bump elbows with the other world powers. Why do you care if I'm back?"

"You're the one who abandoned me! I was the one you left behind! You didn't care, you never cared that I was trying to help you back on your feet! You selfish bastard! I was the one who saved you from disappearing, I was the one who housed you, fed you, took care of the paper work, and paid the debts! You sat and rotted—rotted right before my very eyes!"

Ludwig covered his face again, his other hand pulled at his shirt as if he were ripping out his heart. Tears once more rolled down his cheeks, but in sadness or in anger Gilbert couldn't tell. He watched as Ludwig writhed in the agony of dealing with his brother's death all over again.

Suddenly Ludwig grabbed Gilbert by his front and pulled him close.

"You left me."

Gilbert said nothing.

"You left me… but you come back for _him_? What has England ever done for us that was worth coming back for?"

"I didn't come back for him. I heard a voice calling me and I answered it. I was surprised to see Arthur on the other side, but he needs me, so I'm staying at the side of the person who needs me most."

"Most…" Ludwig let go of Gilbert then. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but he remained silent. He took another step back, looking to his hands before looking up to the ceiling.

"Lud… brother?"

"Most…" he bowed his head, shoulders shaking once more. Gilbert hesitated, then placed a hand on Ludwig's shoulder.

"Brother?"

"I… _I_ need you."

Gilbert's heart panged to hear those words from Ludwig. He was strong and silent, like a brick wall, and seemed to never need anyone to lean on. The wall had crumbled somewhere along the conversation, and Gilbert was looking to his frightened and confused little brother that he had left behind. He embraced his brother then, and Ludwig hugged him tightly.

"You selfish bastard," he sobbed into his shoulder, "you stupid, prideful, selfish… arrogant… why did you go?"

Gilbert held his brother as he cried and was surprised to find tears spilling from own face as well. The sadness spilled out and he cried to his brother as well.

"I'm sorry, West!" Gilbert cried. He heard his brother cry and he knew that this was how he sounded when he had found him lying still in his bed. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry. I-I was so very tiered back then— everyday was so hard… but I should have seen you. I'm so sorry, little brother."

"You're an ass."

"I know. I'm not going anywhere."

And the brothers tore down the wall, the wall that separated East and West, and cried.

888

(A.N): Nope, haven't given up on it yet. Hope you like this chapter, personally I think Germany should win an Oscar for his acting. Until next time (probably in a week)!


	15. The Grey

The Grey

Eden Killinger

In Berlin, absolute panic had broken out. After England's abduction, and the stampede of panicking people racing around the hotel lobby, the event made headlines. Rumors and suspicions of the meeting began to be the big story. As the other countries raced home to try and recollect themselves from the panic, they would find an even worse calamity in store for them.

Within the safe confines of Ludwig's home, Gilbert and his brother discussed what was to be done next over breakfast. It had been two days since the conference, and Arthur still hadn't woken up. There was talk of leaving the country, but arguments over staying at the house while Arthur was still sick kept the brother's at a stand still.

"He hasn't woken up yet…it's as bad as the last time," sighed Gilbert.

"What happened last time?" asked Ludwig.

"He just didn't wake up until I found someone who would help him."

"Who?"

"His Grandmother or something."  
"His what?"

"She's a troll."

"Ah…that explains nothing."

"I mean, a goblin, maybe. I don't know."

"And your saying that this thing, whatever it is, is Arthur's grandmother?"

"Well that's what he called her. She patched up his wound with some magic plants or herbs or something, then he was fine. Woke up and could even walk around."

"Then it seems like she knows what to do and we should take him to her."

"She's back in England, in that forest behind his home. I'd rather not go back."  
"Are you serious? It's not like you to be afraid of anything."

"I'm not afraid," he spat, "I don't like what lives in there. The magic creatures," he said, his tone low with distain as he spoke. "They don't much like me either, don't think that I can protect Arthur."

Ludwig said nothing and sipped his coffee, looking off to the side. Prussia looked over.

"Oh? You think so too?"

"I never said that,"

"But you looked like you were—"

"Never mind what I looked like," he cut him off, hit tone curt. "Your pride always has to be what comes into question, even when someone else is sick up stairs, it all comes back to you."

Prussia said nothing in response, his eyes staring off as he sipped his coffee absent mindedly. Ludwig scoffed and shook his head at him and then began clearing the table. He picked up his now empty plate and mug and set them in the sink.

"I am thinking of Arthur," Gilbert's voice hushed, bordering on apologetic, "He's all I've been thinking about these days…all I care about right now."

"Well, still…it isn't as though you've changed. Yesterday is a good example. Surely the others would know or have at least begun to suspect that it was you pulling that stunt yesterday."

"How could they suspect that it was me?"

"You came in, causing an upset, waving a gun around—my gun, by the way, which I want back—"

"I'll give it back when I feel I don't need it anymore."

"Then you make that outlandish statement, laugh like some cartoon villain, and run out into public! Did you think that would just go over everyone's head? That everyone would shrug their shoulders and go about their business?"

Prussia said nothing, proceeding to curl his lip into a smile before sipping his coffee. The phone began to ring for the third time that day. Ludwig ignored it, and turned to the sink and began to wash the dishes.

"Go check the BBC network to see if anything has happened," Ludwig told his older brother.

Prussia gave a small agreement in reply and went to the living room. Arthur had been moved from the couch to a guest room. He sat and took the television off mute. A woman with brown hair sat at the news desk. To her right was the image of a burning building, what looked like an apartment complex.

"Officials today stated that while the cause of the fire is unknown, there is suspicion of this being a terrorist attack. Since this story was first reported a few hours ago, other reports of burning buildings all over London have been reported. There has been some speculation that these events are linked to the suspected terrorist attacks from the mysterious meeting in Berlin."

"West…!" called Gilbert. "Something's going on in England."

"Hold on, let me dry my hands and…"

The phone rang again. Gilbert watched his brother walked over to the wall phone and pick it up finally. Gilbert turned back to the television.

"…As of now, no links have been made official, and the government has refused to speak on the matter."

She was just finishing the story when suddenly a hand reached into the shot from her left.

"Hold on," she said, taking the paper in hand. Worry pulled at the corners of her lips. She turned back to the camera. "I've just been informed that there has been reports of even more burnings. It seems that an entire block in East London has caught fire…" her hand touched the small mic attached to her left ear. "I'm getting word that we have a crew being sent there as we speak. We'll have more on the subject when they get down there."

"West!" called Prussia. "Something's happening. There are fires—"

"Hold on," he called over. He finished his phone conversation quickly, ducking into the living room quickly. He held a note pad and pen I hand. "That was the Prime Minister, she says to be on our guard. There are strange things happening in our area. There have been reports to the police since last night of strange creatures. The calls won't stop!"

"The calls won't stop," the television almost seemed to mimic Ludwig. A man sat at the desk. Black hair neatly combed and parted to the left. Blue eyes stared at the camera, moving from left to right as he read the teleprompter with haste. "…since last night's attacks in Berlin. Like an invisible riot down the streets, but no one can see the unruly protestors. Reports of cars flying, of people being picked up and tossed into the Thames continue to circulate. Police are at a loss as to what to do. Officials ask that everyone please stay in their homes and not to open the door to anyone you don't know until the crisis has been dealt with…"

Footage began to feed to the screen, accompanied by the reporter's words. Trashcans, Police booths, cars, even lamp posts were being torn up, flung about, and even tossed into buildings. Prussia could see the beasts, demons, and even ghosts that floated about in such masses that he had never even dreamed about. Chaos had broken loose!

_Oh mein got…_! whispered Prussia.

"What's going on? How could this happen?"

"Can you see the creatures doing this?"  
"Some…not all…maybe."  
"Then they're growing stronger—but how?"

Demons chased ghosts, grabbing at them and looking as though they were going to consume them whole! People were picked up and tossed about like children's playthings.

"..Police are stumped," continued the reported, "Firemen can't get near the burning buildings. Guns don't work! We can't see them! Please, stay in your homes and—"

A loud crash from off camera, followed by screams. The camera had been knocked on its side, breaking and causing the screen to flash with static.

Ludwig turned to Prussia.

"What do we do?"

"I don't know," said Prussia. "Let me think a moment."

"How can these things be so powerful?"  
"Arthur knows more than I do…" he admitted, biting his thumb in frustration as he thought. "What I do know is that there is a demon, most likely the demon who gave Arthur and I trouble in the first place, who put a bounty out on his head."

"A demon?"  
"A little gremlin I ran into last night said it was called The Grey. I don't know what kind of demon it is, only that it's very powerful and is saying it'll grant any wish to the demon who'll give it England."

"This is crazy!" Ludwig all but collapsed in his chair, rubbing his face. "God…what do we do?"

"I'll check to see if Arthur is awake, he may know," said Prussia.

Prussia darted up the stairs, running as fast as he could and rushed down the hall. He opened the door.

"Arthur!" he burst into the room. He stopped at the doorway, shocked by the sight of a demon crouching over Arthur. It was human in form, but had hands like hairless paws and a face that stretched out to form a muzzle like that of a dog. Fur grew in small patches on its pale greasy skin. Sunken eyes turned in the direction of Gilbert, its lips visibly pulled at its skin like a loose mask as it formed a smile. Gilbert took his gun out, and without a word, fired at the beast! It was hit! Blood splattered over the sheets and on Arthur's sleeping face. The creature picked him up, holding him close to his body as he face Prussia.

"Put him down or I'll shoot!" yelled Prussia.

"You'll do no such thing," the creature responded, its voice gurgled the words it spoke. "You are Gilbert, yes? Former personification of the deceased country of Prussia, yes?"

Prussia stared at it, unmoving, his gun still raised and ready.

"Of course you are," it continued. "Allow me to introduce myself…I am The Grey."

"You, you are The Grey? Well it was a bad move to show up here Grey, because this is where we say good bye."

He fired off another round, and with perfect aim, hit the creature in between the eyes. More blood flowed out in a steady stream, coloring Arthur's shoulder with it, yet neither Arthur nor the creature dropped. Prussia stared at the creature, who seemed unfazed despite the blood. It remained where it was, a dark mist beginning to seep out of the holes in its body. It flooded out of its mouth, spilling over and rising up around him. The Grey smiled another painfully strained smile.

"You're too rash, child."

Prussia fired again, and again, but the creature remained standing. The grey-colored mist continued to flow out of it.

'He's loosing so much blood, but why isn't it falling down!' Gilbert worried. He heard his brother running up the stairs just then.

"Gilbert!" Ludwig called out.

"Stay where you are," ordered Gilbert, his eyes not moving from The Grey. "You don't want to see this any way."

"Your little brother, Germany. Ludwig, is it?" asked The Grey.

"How do you know these things? Have you been listening in on us?"

"Oh I know more than that. I've been alive almost as long as you have…I say almost because I'm actually much older than you."

"You sure do like to hear the sound of your own, ugly voice, don't you? I'm going to tell you once again. Let go of Arthur. "

"So long as I have Arthur, I have your attention, now then I beseech you to perk up those ears of yours and listen carefully…"

Prussia lowered his gun, biting back his frustration as he stared in silence. His eyes flicked back from The Grey to Arthur, silently wishing that Arthur would wake up and cast this horrid creature away. As it was, Arthur's eyes were closed, but his face had contorted into a look of pain. He was breathing heavily, his fever apparent by the beads of sweat that ran down his forehead. Anger welled in Prussa's chest, his finger still gently pressed against the trigger just in case.

"Are you listening?" asked The Grey, "Yes? Good. Now then, I've been around for quite some time...watching…always watching as the years pass by. Humans grow ever the more stupid. They go about their lives, tinkering and toying with anything they can get their grubby little hands on. At the head there sits a self-proclaimed King, the loudest idiot voice that laughs as the sorrows grow. He blocks it out with his wealth, with his music, with his manors high on the hills. I've seen this over and over again, as people and creatures alike cry out for a change, and get the same lashings, neatly wrapped in a new package. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Prussia nodded quietly.

"I hear you, but what of it? Nice speech, but coming from something such as you it's unexpected. What does the awesome me care if you criticize humans?"

"Criticize? No, you misunderstand. I'm telling you all that I love about humans. I myself am a humanist. If it were not for all the greed, and lust, anger and fear, what would I have to live off of? It's a delight to watch you piss away your dignities, your love, your own families, all to just take hold and believe in the word of mouth from your mouth-breathing leaders—fear mongers! And you! You, who wear the faces of your land, share the thought's of its leaders and indulge in the wealth. Your kind fascinate me the most, Prussia, and I'm honored to be standing here in front of you today. With your blood lust and vengeful anger, you had always seemed more demon than human. I almost feel a kinship towards you."

"Just what the hell are you saying? All this talk, it doesn't make sense. Make a point and make it quick!"

"Ah yes, humans always want things quick."

"I'm not a human."

"That's right, but you are built up from them, or were. Like a legend, you were crafted from the hearts and minds of the people, just like Arthur here. Dead now is your nation and your story. No blood flows through you but life forces you to awake all the same."

"Speak now! What is it you want!" barked Prussia.

"I wish to say that I will win. I will create this new world, bring about a true change to the world and the humans who dwell in it. We have been forgotten, but us spirits will rise again. We are on the brink of creating our own nation, a nation that will become the world in due time."

"A Nation of the un-dead?"

"No…a world of myth and legend. Where that witch humans strove so hard to push away, to cut down, to cleans and burn, will rise once more and take back the land they stole!" his cackle was so high pitched, it sounded as though it were a painful strain, coming out in almost a screech. "England will pay, as will America, and Germany, China, Norway…everyone who killed us off! They will pay for having forgotten us! We will prevail, we will win!"

"You forget who you're talking to. I am Prussia!"

"I know exactly who you are!" it barked back. "And…we want you to join us."

The Grey reached out a clawed hand to Prussia, its yellowed nails were back around the skin.

"You're insane if you think I'd be willing to join you at all! Prussia makes its own path, I bend to no one."

"And that, in the end, is what destroyed you, yes?"  
"Shut up!"

"There's no reason to be so touchy about it. It's better for a man to die with his principals than to bend over and let the others do with it what they will. You were stronger than your brother in that way."  
Prussia fought the urge to look to his brother then. He was unsure if Ludwig could even hear the conversation going on. He stared at the grey, it's smile threatening to tear at its own skin. It hugged Arthur closer.

"I wouldn't have you any other way, Prussia. I would rather you take the lead of the new empire, than myself."

Prussia's eyes widened.

"What…what did you say?"  
"I'm offering you a new position. A claim of land, other lands, to conquer once more. I know you liked the power you've felt so far. You've only begun to tap into your true potential."

"You're wrong!" he cried, his heart beating in his chest. The sensation of pleasure he had gotten from killing rose within him. He felt it now, could just feel the skin and muscle of the beast rip under his tightened grasp. When he had ripped the tongue from the mouth of that demon, he had felt a giddy sensation, like a child that has found a new game to play. "I'm not like that! I'm—"

"You love to claim, to conquer! The feeling of fleeing with Arthur in your arms was pure extasy! The threat you posed to the other nations, I could feel it all, even from within Arthur's heart. Your will is strong, Prussia. You cannot deny your nature."

"I'm not…I only felt like that because…"

"I can feel it now, the thought of rising to power once more is pleasing to you. You no longer have the people you once did, but you may command a new army, a powerful one such as our selves. We, the Grey, as well as the other magic folk beseech you, our future king, to lead us. We'd throw our selves at your feet!" It bowed for only a moment before rising back up, Arthur in its arms.

Prussia stared in stunned silence. His mind raced for what to say, his heart beat with fear and excitement. His eyes looked back to Arthur.

"No…I-I can't. Arthur he—"

"You desire him, and so you would have him if you were king."

Prussia fumbled for words, but failed miserably.

"Think over my offer, Prussia. When you want to meet with me, use this," he tossed him a pendent. Prussia caught the small golden chain in his hands. The stone, at its center, glowed a dark crimson. He looked back to The Grey, the mist that flowed out of it flowed out even heavier.

"Good bye for now…" the mist flew out so fast and wrapped around both himself and Arthur, then evaporated. "Arthur!" Gilbert yelled.

When the mist cleared Arthur had vanished, but the creature was left behind. Unmoving, it lay on the bed, blood trickling out.

"NO!" he cried out to the empty room, but no reply. He bit his lip, fighting the growing urge to scream and rant in frustration. Now was not the time for that. Prussia stared at the carcass, expecting it to move, but the creature remained where it was, its face relaxed and not so stretched, its eyes dead and clouded over. He fought to control the unbridled rage he felt deep into his core. Someone had touched his Arthur, had kidnapped him. He turned away from the door, squeezing the pendent in his hand as he tried to sort out what to do.

Ludwig ran up to Prussia and looked in to the room. The color drained from his face at the horrid sight on the bed. He turned away, looking ready to vomit.

"What in holy hell is that thing on your bed! What happened? My god—where is Arthur?" he breathed.

"The Grey got him, disappeared with him."

"That, that thing on the bed isn't The Grey?"

"I guess not…must have been possessing the poor ugly bastard…"

"Where is Arthur?"

"I told you, he was taken."

"Where—how?"

Prussia wheeled on his brother.

"If I knew where I wouldn't be standing here." He glared at him. Ludwig felt the harshness of that gaze, and for a moment feared for his own safety. Those hungry eyes turned back to the floor, Prussia merely fingered the pendent as he thought.

"Well…what are we going to do?" asked Ludwig quietly.

Prussia remained silent, the pendent squeezed in his hand.

"I guess I have to meet with him on his terms. Tell him my answer up front."

"Which is 'no', right?"

"Yeah…"

"_Right?"_

"Yes—of course!"

"What was the pause?"

"I was thinking... You don't trust me at all do you?"

"I know your nature, brother. That's all I'm saying. I too saw you at the conference, that smile on your face wasn't just an act."

"This isn't the time for that. Right now we have work to do."

"Work? What kind of work."

"We have to research The Grey."

"Ah, I see. So you don't really know what it is then."

"At first I thought it was just another demon, something to just point and shoot at," he began to walk down the hall. He could hear the news reports on television, hear the screams from the recorded broadcasts. "It can't be killed though, not like that. So now I have to research it. I'll find out it's weakness, find out exactly what the hell it is. The next time we meet won't be another annoying lecture."

"I see. I'll go with you then."

He stopped, only a few steps away from the first floor. He looked up at Ludwig, thinking for a moment that that was sarcasm or a harsh joke.

"You…would help?"

"Don't look so shocked," he frowned. "Of course."

"This is…I don't think it's a good idea for you to—"

"I've lost my brother once before. I'm not about to let you go off and face this alone."

"It's my problem, not yours."

"To hell it's just your problem. Why not look over there at the television? My people, my country is in trouble, as well as the others. This thing is out to kill us all, or worse, enslave us. I am going, and that's final."

Prussia nodded at his brother and turned back.

"Fine then. Grab your coat and get us the plane tickets. We're going to England."  
"You think we'll find the answer there?"

"I do. I also think I know just the gnome to help us."

Ludwig, who had been walking to the kitchen, stopped and turned back.

"…Gnome?"

"You'll see," smiled Prussia. The smile disappeared as he turned back and went to the TV, flipping for more news of any other countries.

((A.N: Wow. Long time no see huh? Well, here you are. I have no idea when the next one is. Sorry to my readers who have waited so very long for this chapter. Like I said before, I'm going to finish this story, even if it takes a while. Thanks again to those who stayed with it!))


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